Sometimes you nurse “just” for comfort. Just. Because at two you “shouldn’t” need this anymore. Because the nutrition that you get from food, from meals cooked at the stove and from snacks picked from our garden, from the farmer’s market organic grass-fed milk.. Somehow renders this other milk, this mother’s milk, the milk made just for you.. Unnecessary. Placed below the devalued “just” comfort. Not even meeting the bar to be included in “just”. So inessential. Not even needed like water, a substance it is sometimes compared to once society has run out of the desire to feel that what you say you need is really a need and not “just” a desire.
Just comfort contains a lot of things in this case. Amazing fats, lipids, antibodies, vitamins that absorb better than vitamins from pretty much any other source. Stem cells, probiotics. And yes. Comfort.
We don’t value comfort in this society. We value “luxury”. Luxury cars. Luxury cruises. Luxury vacations of excess. We don’t value comfort in this society. We value deluxe. We value sexy. We value exotic. We value the uncomfortable headiness of early love over the comfort of waking up in the morning next to a human that we know inside out. We value new and shiny, or sometimes the very rare antique.
What is it with our desire to play down comfort? To uncomfortably accept “comfort foods” as the junk that we eat when we’re mourning the loss of our latest and greatest love. To accept “comfort spending” and other vices. But to reject the things that actually provide comfort in a wholesome and healthy way?
“Just” comfort. Just a pair of arms to hold onto you in a sea of emotional chaos.
“Just” comfort. A hand to hold while waiting to hear news that may turn your life upside down.
“Just” comfort. A shoulder where you can bury your face and sob, not worried about snot or tears.
“Just” comfort. A pair of hands that hold your hair away as you heave over a bucket when you’re sick.
Just. Just comfort.
Because if we were truly big enough and strong enough, we could rock this toddler thing like James Bond. All cool in a slick sports car
Because if we were truly independent we could do something mature like shove our feelings down into our size six toddler shoes like a pair of rumpled up socks, and we could deal with all this stuff all on our own.
I don’t know. Seems kinda silly.
Yes. I’ll nurse you “just” for comfort. I’ll smile. Yeah. Maybe it is “just” comfort right now. I’m fine with that. I’m fine with teaching you that comfort is a thing you find in the arms of someone safe that you love.
Maybe if you learn this now, when you are little, you won’t spend your whole life looking.