The dictionary defines comfort as:
1. A person or thing that gives consolation OR to soothe, console, or reassure; bring cheer to (thanks, Dictionary dot com).
Some would say that “comfort is complacency disguised” (thanks, Shandra O’Connell).
Both are right in part. However, personally, I say comfort is found in peanut butter.
Okay, okay. It seems childish, right? However it is just the opposite. Comfort is clearly important. Each of us seek it out in our own way and in our own time. Maybe it is a baby blanket or teddy bear (both of which I still have to this day). Maybe it is God, a husband or wife, a close friend or a wonderful cup of coffee first thing in the morning. These simple pleasures remind me of something I once had or desired. They are familiar, and often it is familiarity that brings for us comfort. And, despite this trip throughout Southeast Asia going amazingly well, small comforts are always needed.
Tonight my comfort came to me in a bag of Lays potato chips, some chocolate and a bottle of Coke along with, of course, the aid of a good book; Owen Flanagan’s The Problem of the Soul (this I know makes me a geek). Last week it came through saltine crackers sandwiched with peanut butter melting through its edges in perfect, gooey bliss. Maybe tomorrow it will consist of going to the Irish Pub down the way here in Chiang Mai and enjoying a Strongbow; something that takes me back, something that is familiar.
Travel has a way of tugging at the deep, weary parts of you. It teaches you what is important, what can be left behind and forgotten and what you always want to bring with you. And peanut butter of course, can only help along the way.