I bought a new sweater, and it’s all I can do not to wear it every day.
It’s long—down to my knees with full length sleeves—open in front with a single button. It’s soft, softer than anything else I own. Cream colored: even the color feels like a gentle hand resting on my back.
It’s so soft that it clings to any shirt I’m wearing underneath. None of that flapping open business that sometimes happens with long cardigans.
When I pull it on over whatever variety of jeans I’m wearing for the day—and I have unapologetically worn jeans every single day so far this school year—I feel warmth down in my bones.
I don’t think I’ve ever noticed sensory details the way I’m noticing them now.
The smell of cinnamon as my coffee brews.
The moon in the morning, resting high in the extra blue sky.
That daylight—like an autumn filter channeling the sun—unique to October.
The rustle of fallen leaves tumbling over each other in their rush to somewhere.
The weight of more than one blanket as the nights have begun to cool.
I appreciate all these small things that feel like soothing words, kindnesses from somewhere to ease all the parts of the day that jar like stubbed toes as we fumble our way through what school looks like now. In this time when things are not as they should (or could) be, I’m taking comfort in comfort.
(And if that sweater comes in any other colors, I’m picking them up, stat!)