I ask my loyal readers to take a moment with me to put aside the stresses of midterms and the impending end of the semester. I ask you to take the opportunity to join me in remembering the simple things in life.
To dwell upon those moments of raw joy can at times be enough to improve a foul mood or lift the darkness from a difficult week. At times it’s the simplest of pleasures in our lives that can provide the most solicitous sense of joy and happiness.
For some it is the most mundane of routines that if scrutinized to the finest of extent, yield a sense of deep comfort and security. For me, the mundane routine that culminates in a profound sense of ecstasy is making the journey home.
Perhaps it the fact that I have been blessed with an indescribably loving family that makes this journey so relaxing. Nonetheless, I feel that everyone should be able to feel these raw and unrestrained feelings of joy and happiness when at their homestead.
There are no mere words to describe the consolation and familiarity of home.
The nostalgic sights, sounds and smells that encompass your being with relaxation and erase all cares from your mind. The proverbial road signs that can bring a tear to one’s eye once their color and shape grace your ocular perception.
Those green metal beacons act as personal welcome, signaling your brain that you are within a mile of home. Each mile marker heralds your return to the home town. Those tired and true, worn down travel routes that bear your weary feet and forlorn mind to a place of sanctuary and repose.
The tires of your vehicle wear down the pavement as the scenery swims past. The horsepower chomping at the bit as it races the other cars eagerly heading to desired destinations. The family whose arms are always affectionate and understanding, the eyes of the parent in which you can do no wrong.
The wholly uplifting unconditional love that is experienced simply by placing one well traveled foot over that threshold.
The atmosphere is forever inviting, never cold and haughty like the winds of this forsaken tundra.
You feel invincible, as in if a safe haven when no person, situation or stressor can do you any wrong.
The tantalizing thought of embarking on a journey towards your abode of solace can inspire moods to brighten and encourage mountainous days to evolve into naught but mere molehills. Cares and worries melt away by simply knowing that soon the loving arms of your mother will embrace you in a healing hug. The week vanishes and all your attention is drawn to your holy grail.
That beautiful day, at week’s end, when the family car beckons to you in the driveway, much like a chariot beckons for a royal. You descend the stairs with a regal grace, bags in hand and head in the air with confidence that no other experience can endow you with. You see the twinkle of the sun on the aging paint job of the family vehicle.
The door is open waiting for you and the trunk is prepared to bear the load of your luggage. The gleam of love in your father’s eye, knowing that mother anxiously awaits your victorious advent.
Easing into your chariot, the cloth of the seat already begins to feel secure and safe, like the love worn fabric of a childhood blanket. The engine roars to life with excitement at your presence, the road is before you and home is in your sights.
– Ally writes about mental health every Friday.
