I don’t know if it’s an age thing or a winter thing, but every time I come home from a busy day or weekend I can’t wait to get into my pj’s, grab a blanket, and curl up on the corner of my well-worn sofa.
Sometimes I heave a heavy sigh as I snuggle deep into the corner. Sometimes I put the foot rest up and stretch out under the blanket as far as I can stretch. Sometimes I sit in perfect silence. Other times I turn on music or pull out my computer.
When Dorothy says “there’s no place like home,” I know what she means.
Some people claim a favorite rocking chair or a chair on the deck. Some crawl all the way into their bed. Others claim that same sofa but cover themselves in kitty cats or throw pillows or chocolate chip cookies.
But it’s all the same.
Back to safety. To security. To a place where you can let it all hang out. A place where you don’t have to be anyone or do anything, where time ceases to exist. At least for a few minutes.
We all need a safe place to cry, to remember, or to have a drink. Or dinner. A familiar place, a comfortable place. A place to end a stressful day. A special spot where you can sit and write or read or thumb through a magazine.
We all need a place where we can pull our blanket up to our chin or just around our ankles and ignore the rest of the world for a while. A place we can fall asleep or call our friends and talk for an hour or sit and write a blog.
Everyone needs that special place.
Where is yours?