to love the warm night air.

do you remember the first time you felt content? like the thorough, aware-of-your-surroundings-in-a-grown-up-sense, content with the current moment of time in which you were living?
i do.

i was probably twelve (it's kinda funny how everything i remember seems to have happened when i was twelve.) and it was nearing easter time. my mother was frantically rushing around the house at ten thirty that night, attempting to undo our messes faster than we could make them. we were expecting my grandparents to arrive any moment.  all the windows were open so the cooling desert breeze could circulate through the house, airing out the freshly sterilized smell. i remember sneaking outside to sit on the porch bench to wait. i was positively bursting with anticipation and happiness. the buzz of our frantic cleaning had stirred up the butterflies in my stomach and i felt so full of so many good things that i couldn't stay inside anymore. this is when i fell in love with warm night air. 


i don't remember what time my grandparents eventually showed up. i don't remember what i got for easter that year. i don't even remember what age i truly was, but every year when the night air finally becomes a pleasant, tolerable version of the day's sweltering heat, i remember that night and i feel so full of childlike contentment that i can't help but get lost in the breeze. and i feel unbelievably full of so many good things once again.


i wanted to do something special for my 100th post and without realizing it, i wrote this instead. 
and it couldn't be more perfect.