The smell of pine on cool-warm air.
Rain.
Purple sunsets.
Standing on the beach at dusk.
The smell of a new book.
Bohemian Rhapsody.
How the sun filters into my old church windows in the middle of the morning.
My grandfather's blue eyes.
The sound of old movies playing in the background.
When students make historical jokes.
Esther's smile.
Anna's hugs.
Leslie's laugh.
Alycia's wit.
The relief when Allie and I understand each other perfectly.
The blessed comfort and ease of me and Miranda.
When my kids make me laugh because of their teenage inhibitions.
The feel of a baby against the skin of my chest.
The South.
Sweet tea.
When my sister whips off a hilarious clever remark.
Watching British television with my mom.
My old red Bible.
When Sarah blushes.
Driving with the windows down.
When Lori gets sassy.
Late night conversations with my dad.
Swan Lake.
When you get to smirk at yourself with God.
Renaissance Festival.
Watching planes take off.
Old things.
Getting a glimpse of time.
Waking up to birds singing.
Texas.
Wanderlust.
When old men at church show their love through long hugs.
The rush of excitement at any taste of Middle Earth.
Singing the Doxology with big family next to the lake that has witnessed it for a half century.
Passion still there after 20 years of studying history.
