Comfort

When I was a little girl my idea of comfort was hearing my grandmum's voice or hugging her tightly, "borrowing" her jammers for a sleep-over on Saturday nights. Camping @ the lake all summer long and the sound of silence falling asleep @ night. The smell of the beach on my sun drenched skin. The smell of spice cake baking in the oven. Gingerbread @ Christmas. The fuzzy feeling of my green poncho. Falling asleep with my huge fuzzy life-size-cub-size bear.
As I grew up, of course things changed. Comfort was a boyfriend's sweatshirt or favourite jeans. My own place when I was @ university. Music. Privacy. Intelligence. Flannel pants & Doc Martens. Seeing my grandmum when I went for a visit back "home".
Later years its owning my own home. A lovers' embrace and snog-fests. Being desired. "A little bit of pain never hurt anyone" heh. Doggies running around the house. Uhmm, make that HUGE doggies running around the house. Music. "Wish you were here" by Pink Floyd. Cozy winter days while the snow piles outside, fresh and cold, blank canvas fields and me in my snow clothes making it my very own work of art. The sound of a voice, warm and loving, whispers of hello, goodbye and everything else in between. Weekend morning snuggles with puppies in the "big bed". Embracing an old friend. Thoughts of my grandmum, her voice and her smile.