A Report on the Senses

I am sitting at the desk in our sunroom, enjoying a few moments of peace while I read reviews of the movie adaption of my vampire love saga and get jazzed about seeing it tonight with my sister, the goddess. From my post in our rickety desk chair, I can see out the front of the house via two windows and to the north through the bank of windows behind me.

I see...

...a Thanksgiving flag waving in the wind

...tall, creeping stalks of dying hostas

...a lumbering yellow schoolbus

...the bundled mailman delivering our letters

...steam creeping out of a basement window

I hear...

...the crackly static of the baby monitor

...the incessant yapping of a neighbor's dog

...heavy breathing from my sleeping baby

...the rustle of wind against the windows

...a moan from a fitfully sleeping boy

I smell...

...my baby's sweet scent

...the aroma of baking bread

...the lingering whiff of my shampoo

I feel...

...the soft, fuzzy form of my baby against my body, dozing in my lap

...the smooth strokes of the keys beneath my fingers

...the rough, crackly surface of my winter-dry skin

...a friendly brush from my comfortable, soft robe

I thank God for quiet times, for my functioning senses, for the joy of everyday moments, for the peace of a sleeping baby.