Cozy

Leaning back in my grey loveseat, heels perched on the coffee table with my shoes still on, I feel cozy and sleepy. From torso to toes, I’m covered in a thick, pink blanket that wraps around my legs.

The cotton fabric is covered with faded checks of white and pink, stamped with flowers and little breast cancer ribbons. It’s my mom’s blanket, which my oldest brother made for her when he was in college. He tied two big squares together with flaps at the border, making bulky knots that now peek from beneath my elbows as I type.

It’s nice to feel comfortable. It reminds me of being younger, before all the adult things crept in. The comfort of the house I grew up in, the comfort of knowing I’d go to school each day and decide the rest when I was older.

Growing up sometimes feels like the window is open and there’s no blanket in sight. But for now, it’s nice to feel cozy, happy in a moment. It’s good to breathe it in, and even drift off to sleep…