fresh

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, photgraphed 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.
- mold.
- people who still leave their cellphones on in the theater, the movies, and in exams.