Some things I never tire of:
– the smell of orange peel.
– fresh bread.
– rosemary. I love the flavor, the scent, and the look of it: in soap, in essential oils, in a frittata, with pan-fried potatoes, photographed against the light, unfurling itself in a terracotta pot, crushed between my fingers.
– the kitty weaving her way between my ankles when I show up for catsitting duty. No, not even when she trips me.
– the various family kids, with their various (sometimes, but not always age-specific) fancies and interests.
Things I still miss:
– late-night taco stands.
– the anonymity of the subway.
– my father’s too-thin hand patting mine.
– tromping the thirty steps to Elli’s house so we could celebrate or commiserate daily. It’s been over 20 years since we were childhood neighbors, and I still miss that ease.
Things I have yet to accept, and still resent with varying degresses of intensity:
– the end-of winter slushy slog.
– car alarms.
– people who still leave their cellphones on in the theater, the movies, and in exams.