COMFORT.......

I love to be comfortable, cozy, relaxed. For me, comfort looks like a nice, warm blankie on a cold rainy day. Wrapped up, cup of coffee, watching an old movie, snuggling with my favorite girls. The blankie, and it IS a blankie, not a blanket, is the softest of fleece, white with pink and red hearts all over it, a present from my girls for Valentine's Day. I love the comfort that it brings to me.

We all need comfort, even if we don't admit we need it. We all desire comfort, and I am talking a deeper form of comfort that having a house with all of the amenities, a car that has heated seats, or a job that pays a load of money. I am talking about comfort, comfort for the body, heart and soul. A deeper sort of comfort that sinks in deep. Can you picture it?

Take a moment, and think about a time when you have felt most vulnerable, most raw with pain and emotion? Maybe you were physically ill, maybe your heart was broken, maybe discouraged by the challenges of life. What did you envision as the thing, person, object, that would most make you feel better?

Before I resorted to a blankie and a cuddle, my comfort was always my mom. I had a comfort with my mother, when I was growing up, like nothing else in my life. I could tell her so much, in many words or very few. And she listened. And she hugged, when she could. And she was there for me. And she guided me, and she scolded me, too. But, to me, my mom was total comfort. When I was alone last year, and when I felt alone or sick or scared, I only wanted one person the most: my mom. Now, that is the comfort I am talking about here.

When I was growing up, we lived twenty miles from the town where I worked as a teen, and the town where my high school was located. So, when I needed to get somewhere, or get home from somewhere, my mom would drive me. And, we would talk, really talk, during those long car rides. About my day. About my friends. About my dreams, my fears. Comfort.

When I wasn't ready to face the school day quite yet, I would crawl into my mom's bed, after my dad had left for work, and just lay next to her. Comfort.

When I was sick last year, all alone in my apartment, my mom and dad were with me to help to take care of me. They brought me cool cloths for my head, made me soup, gave me my medicine. Comfort.

I still need my mom every now and again. And, when she is not with me, I have learned other ways of having comfort that feels as deep and as warm and as lovely. My blankie. My girls, honey one, and honey two (or, honey dew as she likes to say). An old movie.

As a mom, it is interesting how the cycle seems to repeat. Every day, I drive my daughter to school, because she doesn't want to take the bus. So, this morning, it hit me like a bolt of lightning: I have been here before, except, back then, I was the one in the back seat with the book bag. She talks to me, she shares secrets, she opens up. It is indescribable.

And, she crawls into bed with me when she isn't ready to face the day. She cuddles under her blankie next to me when she feels sad, lonely, or afraid. She comes up and stares into my eyes deeply.

Comfort.

What's yours?

Get some today, and every day. Life is too short to deprive yourself for one more minute.