I love comfort food. In the winter, I can consume 9″ x 12″ pyrex containers filled with vegetarian shepherd’s pie.
At school, we joke about “eating our feelings,” and snack on chocolate kisses, pizza dipped in garlic sauce, and Red Vines.
Sometimes, when Dwight wanted to just spend time with me, he asked me to “just make peanut butter and jelly sandwiches on white bread.” Dwight liked Jif peanut butter, raspberry jam with seeds and Granny’s white bread.
Dwight would take a bite, hold it in his mouth and drink a little milk. Then, he’d let it slosh around in his mouth.
Last night, I wanted a snack. I made peanut butter and jelly on High Five Fiber bread from Great Harvest, poured a cold glass of almond milk in a mason jar and mixed the two in my mouth all the while thinking about Dwight.
But, there’s more to comfort than food. When I need to quiet my brain, I watch HBO’s The Newsroom. I think it’s because that’s the last series Dwight and I shared.
Simple. Familiar. That is the formula for comfort.