Comfort Between the Covers

… of a book, that is. A favored book. Things have been more than a little hectic, stressful, and busy around these parts lately. While some folks might turn to comfort foods (okay, I confess – I do that, too), I also turn to comfort books. My mind is too muddled to keep up with complicated plots or over-wordy descriptions when life is busy. I want simplicity and familiarity, and characters who feel like old friends.

This time around, I’m re-reading the Harry Potter series, as I have a few times in the past when I’ve craved easy, light reading. I also dug out another favorite, The Time-Traveler’s Wife. I restarted Harry Potter last night, but I couldn’t bear to put The Time-Traveler’s Wife back into the box once I’d gotten it out. It’s like an old friend! This is the book that I have recommended time and again to anyone who has ever asked me for book recommendations. Not one person has come back to me with a complaint. Quite the opposite, in fact. Everyone has loved it as much as I did.  They’ve fallen in love with Henry and Claire, just as I did.  We’ve all shared in this couple’s ups and downs, and cried our way through this beautiful book.  If you’ve read it, you understand why I just can’t bear to leave this one stored in a box here in NY while I’m starting a whole new chapter of my own life, in a whole new state!

But this reflection on my own reading makes me curious:  What do you, my readers, consider to be your “comfort books”?

A Beautiful Smile to Hide the Pain

my Gramma on her 88th birthday

On Saturday, the beautiful woman pictured here turned 88 years old. It was also on Saturday that I told her about our moving plans. As is her way, she took it in stride. She asked when we were leaving, and if she would see me again before we go. (She won’t, sadly.) When we left, she told me she’d miss me, and made me promise (as if this was necessary!) to write to her, lots.

So many of the traits I value in my own personality are direct tributes to my Gramma. Like her, I have an amazing ability to be strong for other people. It isn’t until later, when I’m alone, that I break down. Until then, I am the shoulder, the rock, making sure everyone else is taken care of first.

This “ability” (because frankly, it is sometimes as much a curse as a blessing) came into play later in that same day, when I had to also say goodbye to my mom. Mom and I have a rocky history, but we’ve moved past any darkness into a place of comfort, closeness, and companionship – much like her relationship with Gramma, I like to think. Before I left Ithaca for Rochester, we would spend our days off from work together. Since 2001, our visits have been less frequent – roughly once a month or so – but we speak by phone every week. And it broke my heart to see her crying there in the parking lot as we parted. But I didn’t shed a tear until I pulled away, driving down Route 13 with my husband next to me and our son in the backseat.

I wonder if it was the same for Gramma, after we left her room that afternoon.