With age I meld with my milieu, bond with household treasures: a certain drinking glass for instance. And when I misplace it, forget where it sits, you’d think I’d lost the Holy Grail.
And there’s the simple glass mug embossed with lotus flowers from which I’ve sipped for years – a cup that turns each morning into espresso bliss.
The favorite fork that feels just right in my hand... and comfy worn-out clothes…
Like the old bathrobe I had to discard last year when the zipper finally gave up the ghost. When it first began to show signs of sluggishness in gliding smooth along its track, I’d feel a vague sense of dread and would stop the world and pray for the teeth to realign, to ease on up or down - like it had done for the past decade.
Then one day I forced myself out into the bitter cold to dump my beloved in the garbage can. It felt like I was burying a pet…almost that distressing.
So for Christmas last year my two daughters bought me another lavender bathrobe as close to the original as they could possibly find: a warm fuzzy with a zipper down the front.
It all goes back to childhood and the comfort I felt with a certain bunny. They tell me I dragged it around until it became shabby as the Velveteen Rabbit whose fur had been loved off. So my mother had to go and buy me an identical pal for church, the old one kept for everyday cuddling.
I meant to go one place with this and ended up reminiscing about my sweet bathrobe and went down a rabbit trail (pun), so I’ll have to continue next time in hopes of getting around to my main point: phobias. Please stay tuned.
What small comforts in life would you dread parting with most?