A hot bowl of soup
It's a sad truth that sometimes it's easy to feel forgotten
to feel small
to feel not-worth-anything
But in my case - well - there are some people in my life who have made it very hard to feel anything but so loved.
This week, my dad helped pack a 20-foot truck, stuffed full of furniture and homely necessities, so that my mom and a good family friend could drive it 632 miles (yes, I Googled it), to my itty bitty - and very empty - apartment in New York City.
I came home on the evening that they arrived to a fully furnished, unpacked apartment with hot soup on the stove. It had been raining all day, so my landlady had turned on the heat. Sufficed to say, my apartment felt cozy for the first time since I'd moved in.
When I lived in Holland, I learned a word in Dutch for which there is no English equivalent; that is, gezellig, and it means, to have "company with a pleasant, friendly ambience". And that's really how I felt when I came home that night.
It wasn't perfect
as nothing is
but it was