I Love…



My dear friend, Dana sent me this link a few weeks ago, and said “I love this–let’s make our own lists!”


The list of what this author loved brought a smile to my face, a knowing nod at the reminder to relish in the simple joys. Over the next few days, Dana and I both gathered our own snapshots of we loved. Like a gratitude practice, the subtle shift to be on the lookout for things that delight us, and finding a specific and eloquent way to say it deepened my capacity for happiness.


I decided to share this poem with you on my birthday.


I would LOVE to see your list! Share it with me when you’re ready.


Love you with my whole heart,


Allie


I love…


I love the centered feeling that comes with quiet Grey mornings and staring at the eucalyptus trees out my window.


I love the expanded feeling after yoga.


I love deciding to sleep in, listening to my body generously.


I love thinking of just the right word.


I love garden metaphors—setting down roots, pulling the weeds, patient tending that leads to flourishing.


I love love love the spark of connection that comes from “me too! I thought I was the only one!” Or “I completely understand.“


I love friends who say with their words and their actions- “I celebrate everything about who you are right now.”


I love that first sip of coffee.


I love the crisp cloudlines etched in an indigo stormy sky.


I love the words parallel and liminal and eloquent.


I love belly laughing. I love making people belly laugh.


I love the dance of befriending a skittish cat, and the reward of a rumbling purr, an outstretched paw wanting more skritches.


I love when Jonathan cups my face in his hands, waits a beat, and then says “I see you.”


I love the stationary aisle of Target.


I love when waves engulf the sea stacks off College Cove seeing the cloud of salty spray waterfall over the gnarled rocks.


I love the magic of the moment the Christmas tree lights turn on.


I love the comforting smell that envelopes me when I hug my mom.


I love the way my dad will look at me slyly with laugh lines showing up right after he makes a dorky dad joke.


I love the moment of sinking into warm water.


I love the smell of bread just out of the oven mixed with soup simmering on the stove.


I love the undeniable sister telepathy Meg and I share—being able to say one obscure phrase and my sister knows exactly what I mean. I love seeing her come alive with quiet confidence in her gifting.


I love the way the enneagram puts a finger on exactly why I am the way I am, and the hopeful shift towards wholeness that it offers. I love that it brings

compassionate perspective towards why others are the way they are too.


I love feeling understood by my kindred spirit friends—processing something with Dana and knowing that she gets it in her bones.


I love the unexpected moments of connection with strangers.


I love Carolyn’s tender and insistent love that extends to those with blindspots and rough edges. I love her presence that reveals belovedness.


I love coaxing a house plant into thriving.


I love spending time with four year olds.


I love being able to listen well and reflect back to someone who they are in ways that spark hope and reclaiming who they are becoming.


I love how brave poppies are.


I love seeing my brother be a dad. To hear his kids giggle as he tosses them up into the air.


I love that he brings out my silly side and that I fit into his lap. I love falling back asleep spooned up next to him.


I love the bravery that floods my veins when I speak my truth, voice an unpopular opinion, set a boundary, or say no.


I love how I’m befriending myself more and more—that the inner critic isn’t quite as loud as she used to be.


I love book club nights—drawn out conversations and vulnerable admissions met with warmth and fierce sisterhood over wine, Danielle’s curry, and Jess’s dessert.


I love seeing Melissa’s confidence blossom.


I love a book I can’t put down because I’ve fallen in love with the characters.


I love the unshakable sense of moxie that arrives when I put on red lipstick.


I love knowing that I belong in this place, at this time, with these people.


I love that this is a poem I’ll never finish.


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