An Incomplete List Of Things I Love

I love to laugh. I love the smell of the first rain. I love my showers and pasta the exact same way, blazing hot. 

I love Trader Joes cashiers and Starbucks baristas and how, no matter what, they always ask how my day is going. I love getting lost in a good book. I love visiting a new city, a new state, a new country, a new anything. I love to eavesdrop on airplanes. I love the way men, in an act of chivalry, always offer to put my suitcase in the overhead bin when I’m traveling alone. 

I love the feeling of clean sheets. I love the feeling of freshly shaved legs (mine) and a freshly shaved face (his). I love lighting candles for no reason. I love celebrating, literally, anything. I love sunshine. I love California. I love when it’s 78 degrees outside. I love when someone I know becomes wildly successful, so I can say, “Hey! I know them!”

I love warm, sweaty yoga. I love when I can see a reflection in a body of water. I love slow dancing in the kitchen and making out in the car. I love the sound of Presley strutting around the house in my shoes. I love that Everett asks 50 questions a day. I love that Carson picks up a book whenever football is on (and I love how Brett looked at me and said, “He’s your child,” the first time it happened.) 

I love to buy myself flowers. I love peanut butter and bananas on my waffles. I love to be generous. I love to leave a big tip. I love(d) waitressing. I love Saxophone players who serenade strangers in parking lots.

I love when a song comes on the radio that you haven’t heard in ten years, but you still know every single word. I love getting dressed up, but not as much as I love getting dressed down. I love how often my husband tells me I’m beautiful, not because I think I am, but because I genuinely believe he thinks I am.

I love being pregnant. I love breastfeeding. I love my body for allowing me to do both, on and off, over the course of ten whole years. I love being a mother. I love the way Presley draws multi-colored blobs on pieces of paper and calls it her family. I love movie theater popcorn. And stovetop popcorn. And microwave popcorn. Come to think of it, I love all popcorn.

I love when you let someone with less items cut in front of you at the grocery store and they seem ridiculously grateful, like you just made their whole day. 

I love dinner parties. I love fruity cocktails. I love when I happen to see something awkward at the same time as a stranger and we lock eyes for a moment, like “Yeah, I saw that, too.” I love (tasteful) bathroom graffiti. I love live music. I love when an artist or band will stop singing for a minute and let the audience sing instead. (Seriously, don’t you just love that?!)

I love when someone says, “Hey, I feel that way, too” in response to something I’ve written. I love that—7.5 years in—I truly, deeply, wholeheartedly love my job. I love when I have an idea for a perfect gift. I love pretty wrapping, and elaborate window displays. I love room service. I’ll say that again: I seriously love room service. (I love when they put tiny flowers on the tray!) I love tacos. I love Melatonin. I love when Brett throws his arm out in front of me when he hits the brakes too hard. I love inside jokes. I love smack talk during board games. I love (really really hot) bubble baths. 

I love the beach, how endless everything feels—the sand, the water, the sky, God’s grace. I love friends who forgive. I love second chances. I love poetry.

I love when prisms make rainbows on the wall. I love how I look in heels. I love how I feel in slippers. 

I love the scent of a freshly bathed newborn. I love the library. I love bookstores. I love finding treasure on Facebook marketplace.

I love movies that make me cry. I love shows I can watch more than once. I love Friday Night Lights and I really love Tim Riggins. I love facials. I love Broadway. I love pears. I love when Brett throws something at me and I catch it, and he falls in love with me all over again. 

I love a really good pair of jeans. I love a flattering dress. (I love leaving some things to the imagination.) I love to hike. I love to flirt. I love tattoos. I love a high maintenance skincare routine. I love a low maintenance personality. I love reading anything by Anne Lamott. I love turning a house into a home. I love being carded. I love the way squirrels eat fruit with their hands like humans. 

I love Voxer. I love my mastermind group. I love the sound of another person’s heart beating. I love when someone, anyone, plays with my hair. I love swimming in the ocean. I love who I am on vacation. I love Diet Dr. Pepper. I love flavored lipgloss. I love finding the perfect song at the perfect time. I love when someone I barely know tells me I smell good. I love foaming hand wash (one of the greatest inventions of our time!). I really do love to vacuum. I love to brush my teeth. 

I love the color of my eyes, and the color of yours (eyes in general, what a masterpiece). 

I love day two hair. I love when I’m hiking somewhere obscure and come across a bench. I always think, I love that someone thought to put a bench there. 

I love taking pictures of shadows. I love breakfast for dinner. I love my weighted blanket. I love when you pull up next to a car at a red light and the person inside is FEELING the music. Even more, I love when I am that person. 

I love romance. I love being cooked for. I love a well-timed PDA. I love the way Brett looks at me on an ordinary Tuesday. I love everything, and I mean everything, about Christmas. I love New Years. I love fresh starts. I love kissing at midnight.

I love the smell of grapefruit. I love when ice cream melts on top of a hot brownie and makes ice cream soup. I love making friends on the internet. I love a good recommendation. I love freckles. I love nostalgia. I love cliffhangers. I love to follow sunlight around the house like a cat. I love to stretch.

I love going through the car wash. I love when the sky looks like cotton candy. I love when applause spurs an encore. I love old people holding hands. 

I love finding money in my pocket. I love a clean house, a clean car, cleanliness in general is pretty great. I love getting a really great parking spot on the first try. I love Real Simple magazine. I love standing around a kitchen island pretending to be useful.

I love weddings. I love dancing until my feet hurt. I love quietly riding on an elevator with a group of people going different places. I love swaying in a hammock. I love when men wear babies strapped to their chests. I love when little kids smile at themselves in a mirror, truly delighted by their own appearance. 

I love peppermint coffee. I love a new sweater. I love twinkle lights. I love when I witness a kid having a meltdown in public, and I make eye contact with the mom and just nod at her like, “Yeah, these kids be crazy.”

I love sourdough bread. I love the look on Brett’s face when he opens a jar I couldn’t open. I love that in ten years of being a mother, I have never once emptied the diaper pail.

I love anticipation. I love love. I love pedicures. I love that, not long ago, Everett genuinely believed he could run faster than me. I love that I did not, for one second, consider letting him win.

I love dry shampoo. I love when the leaves change and the trees turn ombré. I love Justin Bieber. I love when you trim a plant down to the roots and it grows back bigger and better than before. I love a good metaphor.

I love finding the perfect gif. I love when my inbox is less than 10. I love when someone buys you a gift simply because they saw it and thought of you.

I love gold jewelry. I love painting my nails different colors. I love to learn. I love the permission to change my mind. I love when Presley drapes my phone cord around her neck and pretends to be a doctor. I love exfoliating. I love puzzles. I love riding my pink scooter around my neighborhood. 

I love a good gallery wall. I love a sprinkle of powdered sugar. I love adding just a little bit more garlic. I love standing in a crowded place like Times Square and thinking about how much God loves every last one of us. 

I love waking up before anyone else. I love being home alone. I love getting rid of toys. I love a good charcuterie board. I love being in the company of women who unabashedly champion each other. I love pep talks. I love feeling sore after a workout. I love sleeping with the windows open.

I love that I can’t stop thinking about how many things I love. 

I love(d) writing this.

*This post was inspired by Courtney Martin. Want to read a few more? Here’s Katie’s and Sonya’s and Sarah’s.