in the mornings, it tangles around her in a halo. in the afternoons it slides through my fingers in waterfalls. at night, beside me, she smells of meadows. her hair was in a braid when i first met her. was parted down the other side. since then she’s grown it out and dyed it twice. i think i could see her hair from a mile and still know it was hers. it’s wild like her, only occasionally behaving, usually the source of a pout i want to kiss away. it’s black underwater. when she swims she looks like a mermaid.

i tell her that i think her hair is nice. “it’s soft,” i say. everything about her is beautiful in the same way. even when she feels ugly. even when she’s crying. “it’s very pretty.”

she pouts again. that pink lip she has no idea is silk. she says, “don’t lie to me.”

sit in the sun without anything to do, feel the heat of the rays hit your skin, realize that this sunlight has travelled a very long way to reach you

walk around barefoot and try to feel as much of the ground under your feet as you can, notice every rock and blade of grass

sit quietly for a while and notice the touch of breath in your nostrils, feel how the air gets cooler as you inhale and warmer as you exhale

drive around aimlessly and blast some of your favorite songs, scream/sing along to them and feel the vibrations of your favorite lyrics as they change the air in your throat and around you, feel that the music is healing you from the inside out

stay away from alcohol or drugs for a few days, try to be as aware and present as you can in every moment, stop trying to numb or dull your senses

eat a few meals without any distractions, notice every bite and taste every flavor that covers your tongue, be grateful for it all