Today is Friday (how did that happen??), and it’s time for 5 Minute Fridays. What is 5 Minute Fridays? I’m so glad you asked! It is when women from all over the globe come together – on Fridays- and write for 5 minutes on a topic. You can hop over HERE and check it out!
This Friday’s word is COMFORT
I have always had a big imagination. As a writer and a creative, this is a great thing. When you are little and it is the middle of the night, not so much!
As a child, I was so afraid of the dark. I would pray that I wouldn’t wake up until morning. Nothing my parents did or said really helped. We prayed. They told me all the comforting things you say to a child who is afraid of the dark: Jesus is here. He is watching over you. You are safe.
But when I woke up at 2 a.m. with my room swathed in shadows, everything just looked scary. Did that shadow suddenly move? What was that noise? Were those – gulp – footsteps?
I had one comfort during those long, dark nights when there really did seem to be things that went bump in the night: my Granny.
When I was 5 years old, my mom’s mom, my Granny, came to live with us. And suddenly, instead of feeling all alone in the dark, miraculously, I wasn’t.
Those nights when my eyes would pop open, I would lay in my bed for a few minutes, but I never lasted very long. I would slide out of my bed and tiptoe down the hall.
I’d call softly, “Gram?”
She always pull the cover back a bit and answer me with, “Come in here, you.” I would slide into her bed and snuggle up to her warmth. Comforted by her presence, I’d drift back to sleep.
Even though it was the same night and it was just as dark, I wasn’t scared anymore. Because I wasn’t alone.
Of course, I hadn’t been alone all along. My parents, my brother – they had all been just down the hall. But there is something about actually feeling and hearing another person that makes your fears recede.
My grandmother passed away in 2007. She was in her 90s at that point, and in a nursing home due to a fall which fractured her back. Then it was my turn to comfort her. I’d visit her each week to let her know she wasn’t alone.
Of course, she wasn’t. But there is just something about seeing someone in person to drive the loneliness away. Comfort will always bring to my mind, my grandmother who didn’t mind sharing her bed with a small, scared girl.