Security Blankets and Chips

Have I ever mentioned that sometimes, life is just so much larger than me?  Sometimes, life gangs up on me and several days attack me at once, and I long for “home”.  And, for this kind of attack, I want the pier at North Avenue Beach; the pier where so much of my life has been sorted out and pondered and mulled over and settled. 

I need to just “be”,  and I need to just “be” at “home”.

Sometimes I just want to “go home”, in much the same way that a hurt child just wants his or her Mommy.  Most of the time Mommy can’t really repair the damage.  However, Mommies, in general, do possess an amazing ability to heal by their mere presence.  And, today, I need a little “presence”. 

Today, I need the calm and peace I have found on the pier; the peace of the waves gently slapping the pier or the gulls flapping in the air. 

I need the fishy smell of the Lake combined with the muddled scent of diesel from nearby Lake Shore Drive; the silence of the pier in contrast to the clamor of the city; the familiarity of Lincoln Park and the cool sand under my feet.  I want a little traffic to contend with in order to get my mind off of reality.  And, today, I’ll take it with one of those little individual bottles of wine, you know the cute ones in the four pack?  Heck, maybe today I want all four of them, but then I’d get a headache, and that’s no fun either.  So, I’d settle for two to sip through the confusion and the not knowing and the deciding.  Wow, so much to decide, so little to actually DO.  

I want to watch the sun go down over the city, and just “be”. 

But today I find myself on Rocky Top with no wine, no Lake, and certainly no pier!  Like a child, I just “wanna go home!”  Sigh.  What to do?  I gather my thoughts, like tattered bits of tarp that rode out the storm, and scrape myself into my favorite chair, with my favorite journal and my favorite chips.

Chips?  made with genuine Open Pit BBQ Sauce

Yes, chips.  And a beer too!  Shhhh!  Don’t tell.  I drink beer so infrequently that one is all I can ever drink, unless I want to feel loopy, which I don’t.  As I crunch through most of a bag of Jay’s (purchased on my last trip home) I am slowly lulled into some sense of peace.  There’s a security blanket kind of warmth and comfort in even this piece of “home”. 

I bask in it, and crunch away.

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One thought on “Security Blankets and Chips

  1. Pingback: Miscarriage of a Career | Yankee On The Inside

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