comfort is the absence of worry.
leaning on my dad
watching some off brand series about drug busts and heating up yesterday's dumplings.
comfort is found in the moments where i do not desire the latest social media feed.
i am not scrolling. i am not checking in.
comfort is undoing the tame bun i’d had up all day, running fingers through my own hair.
comfort is an open back door on a hot evening, a light blanket, warm tea.
comfort in where you are and who you’re with and where you’ll be.
it’s putting tomorrow aside
until it becomes today
and sleeping when the lights go out
i guess i’ll put my phone away.
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