Finding comfort

I find comfort in being around older people sometimes (older being my parents or grandparents’ generation). It’s because they are a constant, you can always count on them. Some days when I had enough of the bustling city, I would travel to my aunts and uncle’s place for a weekend getaway. I find comfort in being in that place. There will always be cookies in the cookie jar sitting on the kitchen bench. The fridge will have some sort of leftover food from yesterday night’s dinner. Fresh towels will always line up the linen cupboard. The beds will always be made. At seven pm, my aunt will turn the key in the doorknob as she comes back from her gym routine. On Wednesdays, my uncle will be reading a book at Borders. On Saturday mornings, they will be out for their brunch while reading the paper. I myself am not accustomed to such rigid routines. Sometimes I surprise myself with my spontaneity, sometimes running on impulsiveness - which can be a good thing or bad thing, depends on how you look at it. But, you know sometimes it feels good when you know there will always be cookies in the cookie jar.

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And right now, I'm seeking comfort once again. Everytime i view my blog, i see the timer clock counting down to day i jet off to the place I call home. Home is where I find comfort. Home is where the heart is.