Here's a list of things I am pining for:
pushing my face into the ruff of my dog's neck;
the taste of Wolf Blass's Chardonnay Pinot Noir bubbly;
some different clothes to wear;
The Loved One;
a skinny flat white coffee;
holding a real newspaper in my hands, not a virtual one;
Friday night's pan fried salmon with a sprinkling of Moroccan spice and braised cherry tomatoes and creamy mashed potato;
the smell of my little girl (who's 21);
not being surrounded by poverty and the accompanying guilt.
As writers we're not supposed to make lists; it's not done according to the experts. Because readers get bored with lists. Tell me, are you bored?
Some rules are made to be broken.