Sanctuary

It's no secret that when I need to hide or think the first place I go is the Coffee Shop.

But there are times when it isn't enough.

I grew up at my grandparents' house. It is the closest thing I have to a home. We didn't always have a great relationship, and we don't always understand each other. But I love them. In their special way, they take care of me.

There have been three separate occasions when all I wanted to do was go to their house to hide, regroup, think, rest. Because we don't interact, they usually leave me to my own devices. My grandmother loves to cook for her visitors--always the willing hostess. And so, she'd make me dinner, and order me to go to my room and get some rest.

She says I always look tired.

Maybe because I usually am when I am there.

And because I love my grandpa, I crave any sign of affection from him. He's been battling with his own mortality lately, which worries me to a large degree. The other side of that coin is that he has become very affectionate. He is now prone to giving hugs and actually responding when I say, "I love you." And because I love my grandpa, whenever he hugs me, it is like balm for my soul.

Today was one of those days when all I wanted was to go home. And like the three other times when I sought sanctuary, the routine was the same. My grandmother made me dinner, and sent me upstairs to get some sleep. She walked into the bedroom unannounced and asked me to come down to dinner. The three of us ate, making small talk because there really isn't much for us to say to each other. And when I finally left, my grandpa hugged me and told me that he loved me.

It isn't much, and it probably means nothing to them, but the way they love me is more than enough to get me through...whatever it is I need to get through.

A little love can go a long way.