feeling: a previously-owned, new-to-me MacBook Pro--it's smooth keys still a foreign feeling beneath my fingers. a soft baby washcloth for endless wiping of a little girl's drippy nose. the car's cold steering wheel. rain on my face and hair as I carry a bundled girl to her seat. my own nose stuffy and my throat raw and dry.
seeing: mud and leaves caked and splattered on our white car (ahh street parking). a little girl pretty in pink, even on a sick day. children's paintings in bold primary colors on the wall of the doctor's office.
hearing: tears. wet, chesty coughing fits. our doctor's reassurances, recommendations, and reference points for when we might need to come back. L's nap time sleep music.
tasting: peanut butter toast, hot honey lemonade, homemade chicken soup, cheese toast, cool water soothing my throat.
smelling: the sharpness of last night's chicken-packaging spoiling in the trash can. the softness of a toddler's cheek. my mom's detergent still in my clothes from last week's visit.