The smell of home.is a Comfort.
Went to find the "cup" for the nightly cup of tea. Grabbed a lime green with orange polka dots on it. Its from a set I acquired somewhere along the line. It's one that doesnt get much stage time, but when she shines, shes is a good choice.
While cleaning up the Christmas stuff today I collected all the "junk" that seems to fill the corners of my house. You know stuff that gets dropped on the counter when people come home, and then I throw into a big bowl in the cupboards. Well I collected all that stuff and poured it into a huge Christmas gift bag. All kindsof things.. Sunglasses, race cars, jewelry, birthday cards, marbles, and multiple chapsticks.
Chapstick...
I put it on my lips tonight and BAMMM... I'm back.
The smell of chapstick, and the vision of the small black tube my Dad carried in his pocket... all the time.
As soon as it went on I was taken back to the times sitting ON HIS FEET on the Living Room floor on myrtle ave. We had a couch, a chair in the corner and Dads recliner. The chair in the corner didnt face the tv so If you wanted to watch, you either, scrunched at the bottomof the couch where Mom was lying reading her book, OR you sat on the floor.
I personally LOVED sitting on the floor. On HIS FEET. They were always so cold. SO white and skinny. He had fat sausage hands but scrawny COLD COLD feet.
I remember sitting there, leaning against his legs, and just watching tv. It was my spot.
One year he dropped a filing cabinet on his foot while working at Ernst, and broke his big toe on his left foot. He would tape it up with white tape and shove it into his sock and off he'd go. At night we would pull the tape off, and it would look just as bad. All flat and white the nail black the knuckle all curled up. As we would pull the tape off he would howl with laughter.... say hurry hurry hurry up Suzie!!!!!
I would laugh with him so I didnt cry and get the tape off.
Then we would get back to business, sit on his feet to warm them up, but don't sit too hard on that toe.
Before I would go to bed, I would ask for his chapstick. He would put it on my lips and then dab it on the end of my nose.
I never had my own chapstick, I didnt need it. His was always in his pocket, or on his dresser, in the white dish next to his jewelry box. I was in HS when my lips were chapped one day. I asked my friend Amy to use hers. Then I put the chapstick on my lips then dabbed it on the end of my nose. She asked straight faced "why did you put that on the end of your nose?"
"Thats how you do it."
"who said?"
"My Dad always puts it on the end of my nose, EVERY SINGLE TIME, it keeps it from getting chapped or something... I guess?"
She laughed hysterically, she still laughs now, 30 years later.
I thought that was the right way to put it on, lips first then on the tip of your nose.
I remember sitting on Dads feet, while he pushed the buttons on the tv. The remote was quite an invention in our house. I didnt have to get up every 10 minutes to change the channel, or fix the antenna, or get a beer from the fridge. The remote saved me alot of getting up and down.
While Dad smoked his cigarettes, the y would pile up in the ashtray, I didnt even smell it back then. I do remember the smell on his coats and sweaters. I loved that smell. Still do sometimes when an older gent walks on by with the smell of tobacco. It can bring me back to the days of wrapping inside his coat while we stood on the sidelines watching football practice, or baseball practice.... endlessly......
I would stand inside his coat and we would zip me up inside. Head and all. Id pull my hands and arms up and just stay in there. snug as a bug. He would put his hands in the pockets and rub my arms warm. It smelled like Chapstick, cigarettes and head and shoulders.
Ahhh
Sometimes I would lie in bed. Being only one room away from the kitchen, I could smell my Mom cooking my Dad, A "little snack" after we went to bed. Usually an egg sandwich. on toast. I could hear Mom cooking it, and Dad eating it. The smell just enveloped me. I can still conjure the smell at night, in my bed, in the dark. A fried egg sandwich.
Aww Mom and Dad.
What I wouldn't give for five minutes on that old green carpet, sitting on those spindly cold toes, with the whiff of smoke and egg sandwiches in the air. .
I am thinking of comfort tonight.
My new years resolution is to give COMFORT AND JOY.
Comfort to those I love and to those I don't even know.
Joy is easy, a good story, a movie, a nice dinner.
Comfort is a whole other story. Comfort in my mind is given to those that may not even know they need it.
May not want it, or deserve it.
I will try to find whta will COMFORT someone.
I am going to try to give it though.
Accept my comfort, I need to feel I am giving something valuable that money cannot buy. Its a bit less than Peace, a bit more than happiness.
I imagine a cup of coffee, a conversation when someone looks lonely, a smile.
It will give me more.
I can't fix some peoples hurts or worries. If I could I would. That is why COMFORT is so important. I may need to be quiet, or just the phonenumber when that mooment arrives when fear is knocking on the door.
grief and loss needs comfort.
I pray tonight for GOD to guide me to those that I can help.
Help my friend, give her courage and a miracle.
A miracle would be great.
If not a miracle, give us whatever it takes to make this journey about LIVING, and making IT COUNT.
We have so much to do together raising our boys, This is not a done deal, Miracles happen.
Why do I always write about ME?
While cleaning up the Christmas stuff today I collected all the "junk" that seems to fill the corners of my house. You know stuff that gets dropped on the counter when people come home, and then I throw into a big bowl in the cupboards. Well I collected all that stuff and poured it into a huge Christmas gift bag. All kindsof things.. Sunglasses, race cars, jewelry, birthday cards, marbles, and multiple chapsticks.
Chapstick...
I put it on my lips tonight and BAMMM... I'm back.
The smell of chapstick, and the vision of the small black tube my Dad carried in his pocket... all the time.
As soon as it went on I was taken back to the times sitting ON HIS FEET on the Living Room floor on myrtle ave. We had a couch, a chair in the corner and Dads recliner. The chair in the corner didnt face the tv so If you wanted to watch, you either, scrunched at the bottomof the couch where Mom was lying reading her book, OR you sat on the floor.
I personally LOVED sitting on the floor. On HIS FEET. They were always so cold. SO white and skinny. He had fat sausage hands but scrawny COLD COLD feet.
I remember sitting there, leaning against his legs, and just watching tv. It was my spot.
One year he dropped a filing cabinet on his foot while working at Ernst, and broke his big toe on his left foot. He would tape it up with white tape and shove it into his sock and off he'd go. At night we would pull the tape off, and it would look just as bad. All flat and white the nail black the knuckle all curled up. As we would pull the tape off he would howl with laughter.... say hurry hurry hurry up Suzie!!!!!
I would laugh with him so I didnt cry and get the tape off.
Then we would get back to business, sit on his feet to warm them up, but don't sit too hard on that toe.
Before I would go to bed, I would ask for his chapstick. He would put it on my lips and then dab it on the end of my nose.
I never had my own chapstick, I didnt need it. His was always in his pocket, or on his dresser, in the white dish next to his jewelry box. I was in HS when my lips were chapped one day. I asked my friend Amy to use hers. Then I put the chapstick on my lips then dabbed it on the end of my nose. She asked straight faced "why did you put that on the end of your nose?"
"Thats how you do it."
"who said?"
"My Dad always puts it on the end of my nose, EVERY SINGLE TIME, it keeps it from getting chapped or something... I guess?"
She laughed hysterically, she still laughs now, 30 years later.
I thought that was the right way to put it on, lips first then on the tip of your nose.
I remember sitting on Dads feet, while he pushed the buttons on the tv. The remote was quite an invention in our house. I didnt have to get up every 10 minutes to change the channel, or fix the antenna, or get a beer from the fridge. The remote saved me alot of getting up and down.
While Dad smoked his cigarettes, the y would pile up in the ashtray, I didnt even smell it back then. I do remember the smell on his coats and sweaters. I loved that smell. Still do sometimes when an older gent walks on by with the smell of tobacco. It can bring me back to the days of wrapping inside his coat while we stood on the sidelines watching football practice, or baseball practice.... endlessly......
I would stand inside his coat and we would zip me up inside. Head and all. Id pull my hands and arms up and just stay in there. snug as a bug. He would put his hands in the pockets and rub my arms warm. It smelled like Chapstick, cigarettes and head and shoulders.
Ahhh
Sometimes I would lie in bed. Being only one room away from the kitchen, I could smell my Mom cooking my Dad, A "little snack" after we went to bed. Usually an egg sandwich. on toast. I could hear Mom cooking it, and Dad eating it. The smell just enveloped me. I can still conjure the smell at night, in my bed, in the dark. A fried egg sandwich.
Aww Mom and Dad.
What I wouldn't give for five minutes on that old green carpet, sitting on those spindly cold toes, with the whiff of smoke and egg sandwiches in the air. .
I am thinking of comfort tonight.
My new years resolution is to give COMFORT AND JOY.
Comfort to those I love and to those I don't even know.
Joy is easy, a good story, a movie, a nice dinner.
Comfort is a whole other story. Comfort in my mind is given to those that may not even know they need it.
May not want it, or deserve it.
I will try to find whta will COMFORT someone.
I am going to try to give it though.
Accept my comfort, I need to feel I am giving something valuable that money cannot buy. Its a bit less than Peace, a bit more than happiness.
I imagine a cup of coffee, a conversation when someone looks lonely, a smile.
It will give me more.
I can't fix some peoples hurts or worries. If I could I would. That is why COMFORT is so important. I may need to be quiet, or just the phonenumber when that mooment arrives when fear is knocking on the door.
grief and loss needs comfort.
I pray tonight for GOD to guide me to those that I can help.
Help my friend, give her courage and a miracle.
A miracle would be great.
If not a miracle, give us whatever it takes to make this journey about LIVING, and making IT COUNT.
We have so much to do together raising our boys, This is not a done deal, Miracles happen.
Why do I always write about ME?
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