THE LITTLE THINGS

This piece was written from a prompt by @BethKempton for her Summer Writing Sanctuary, day 3.

Image created by author using www.canva.com

In the seconds after waking up, with my eyes still closed, I feel a furry head and damp nose nudging its way under the palm of my hand.

Opening my eyes, I smile at the little dog who brings me so much joy and stroke her head as she nuzzles against me. Her saucer-like eyes gaze adoringly at me before my daily routine begins.

I swoosh the curtains back, and the orange glow of the early morning sunshine warms my face and makes me smile.

Under the shower, the warm water powering against my skin invigorates me, setting me up for another new day.

Cleaning my teeth, the rumbling of the battery-operated toothbrush vibrates against my hand. The bristles on its circular head rotate back and forth as it buffs my teeth with pearly white toothpaste, my mouth tingling with Potassium Sorbate, which will keep it feeling fresher for longer.

Then I slap generous amounts of cream on my face and body, smearing it into my ageing, sun-spotted skin with my hand. 'It's absorbed in thirty minutes', it says on the jar, but my skin greedily sucks it in.

I smooth the ripples out of my Egyptian cotton sheet, which is soft beneath my fingertips, and plump and straighten the duvet over it.

Before walking, I guzzle a chilled smoothie and a hot coffee for breakfast.

A soft breeze kisses my face, and spiky meadow grasses tickle my legs as we walk along the path, as my little dog darts from one interesting sniff to the next. We walk this way often, but she laps up every second with the excitement of experiencing a new adventure.

And she is right. All new days are different. Today, I can hear the eerie distant call of marsh harriers circling high in the sky, which makes my heart flutter—just one of the many little things that remind me how good it feels to be alive.