A potential new reader

I like how the Gelatto shop was open late tonight. And how sleepy and warm Oriental Bay was. And how big and black and shiny Frank's truck was. I am developing a bad habit of thinking everytime I have to make some driving decision "I'm in a truck". They'll get out of my way, I can just drive over the curb, I can touch park. That's not true, the last one. I like the bloody pools of pohutakawa at the bottom of our steps. I like that when I cook I make enough for a family of six. Except I don't like that it's just me to eat it. I like picnics in the middle of a working day with plump cherries and muffins in the shape of teddy bears. I like being pulled across the bed at night and falling asleep in his arms. I like that I can have girlie chats with my brother's dad. I love that my little sister is home in a week. And that I will swim in tepid water at a beautiful little beach way up North. I love the freckle under his left eye. And the puff of my little brothers chest when he's playing in the sea. I love that my Auckland sister rings me at work just for a chat, and I hate that I never talk for long because I feel bad that people can hear me not working. I like it when people are crazy about something, anything that they need it, that they hunger for it, that it soothes their soul.

Oops, it's late.