Finding comfort

I do not embrace illness. And I may do everything in my power to ignore the signs and symptoms because if you do not pay them any mind, they may go on their merry way. I woke up this morning feeling a bit off and sought my favorite preventative remedy. J.P. is out of town for work so when he called, I suggested he purchase the same and start taking it before he reenters the sick zone.

I went outside and carried in four boxes of dog food (because it is always super convenient when it gets delivered). I felt empowered carting the boxes and putting the bags in the pantry. I inhaled a deep breath of moderate coolness as this weather in unseasonably warm. I thought about a run. Maybe a light one. After putting everything away, I sat down. I may have felt a bit light-headed. I thought about how my friend Jean asked me yesterday if I wanted to join her for a walk. I declined as I felt the need to be still. And now, I think maybe my stillness was a result of some contaminant in my system.

Both girls appear to have had the flu recently although one is away at college in Boston and the other is just down the hallway. And this younger one may/ not have infected me. She tested negative but chills, fever, exhaustion and a lovely sinus infection have left us thinking that perhaps this was a false negative.

Feeling a bit under the weather as an adult, makes me think about being ill as a child. I would reach my arms out for my father, pinch my hands as if they were lobster claws, and beg him to hug me. Safe in my father’s embrace was my favorite place to be. He would bring me a washcloth dripping with cool water, fold it into thirds, and place it lovingly on my forehead. He made me cinnamon on toast. Something I have not had for years. Wheat toast smothered in butter layered in sugar and cinnamon. The combination of salty sweet made everything feel better. If I had something that lasted a few days, he would stop by a bookstore and pick up a new Nancy Drew or Trixie Belden book.

(My best friend Stacey and I always plotted so that we had alternate editions. Our personal library of mysteries was doubled… we kept a list of what we had in total so our parents always knew what was missing. We also wrote a song about women’s liberation and sent our lyrics to President Jimmy Carter. We received a form letter in return and cherished it.)

We had a serious bedtime that we had to adhere to. But when one is in the midst of a great mystery or science fiction book, it is so very difficult to put it down. Enter one of the best holiday gifts ever- my very own flashlight with the click button. The flashlight under the covers was the antidote to my impatience. It did not however lead to me leaping out of bed the next day.

My dad had a way of rousing us from our childhood sleep. He liked to march into our rooms, turn on the overhead lights and blow some ill-conceived tune on a whistle.

(I often went through his drawers and would steal any/ all whistles that I could find. Unfortunately, they were a freebie at our bank and more popular than lollipops. I still have a whistle that belonged to my grandfather. That one did not end up in the trash.)

And if that did not inspire us to rise (and it did not as we got older), he would tickle us. One morning I was particularly slow and he pulled my legs until my butt landed with a giant thud on the floor. I became enraged and chased him down two flights of stairs. He ran around the columns in the basement but laughter overtook him and he crumbled into a choking pile on the floor. Even though I was engulfed with teenage anger, his laughter was contagious and we shared another fabulous moment of laughter.

So when I think about managing typical childhood illnesses, I think of love. And buttery cinnamon sugar. And hugs and good books. And I hope that I have brought comfort to my children during moments when they need me the most. (With the modern version: hugs, Netflix, chik fil a and chocolate milkshakes)

Everyone’s comfort and comfort zone are different. But being able to locate and find your comfort when you need it. Even reaching back and bringing good feelings and memories to your current situation. Filling up friends and family with sugary goodness and a good book. And a furry companion. And a hug. When needed and sometimes when least expected.

(Although perhaps not so very recommended when one of you is contagious. My father never hesitated to share his comfort and love and so it is and forever shall be. Love in sickness and health. And most definitely in cinnamon sugar toast.)