I Appreciate the Little Things In Life

I was 16. My girlfriend at the time, 17, stole her dad's car and came to pick me up at midnight. Having both snuck out, we drove halfway across town, sparse with traffic, up to this woodsy gravel road. The treetops veiled the road on both sides, letting little light through the dark path. The gate wasn't locked, so I jumped out and opened it, and she drove in. We walked through the dark woods, moon overhead with its reflected beams peircing randomly through the shadowed tree branches.

Continuing, we walked past a willow tree which hung somberly and protectively over a small pond, containing a duplicate of the moon's face. Nearing the treeline, we came upon a playground and a wide open field, just beyond. We messed around on the swings, then walked towards the middle of the field.

We laid a blanket down, sparked a couple of our respective favorite brands. Marlboro Reds, for me; and Turkish Royals, for her. She would make it a task to inhale enough of the cigarette to burn through one letter at a time. The moon and stars shone brightly that night, and we just laid on our backs and talked and smoked. I can't remember what we talked about, but the talking became something else before too long. Then we came back the way we came, and the moment died: forever locked and shrouded in hazy memory.

I think I could have died that night and been happy. That's my favorite memory.

The first time I saw my babies

My little daughter and my cats such sweet moments

every seconds