Cozy comfort

29 of 31 at Two Writing Teachers!

I can't move.

Do you know how difficult it is to write while lying nearly horizontally on your back, with a tummy so full it's making your eyelids droop heavily?

Do you know how sluggishly the words come when you're huddled in a fleece sweatshirt while leftover snow drifts drearily outside your window?

No? Then come with me through neighborhoods so new they still surprise me...

down old country roads,

past farmhouses with peeling paint and leaning barns...

across re-frozen fields where wintry winds whip another dusting of sugar-white topping...

into a tiny downtown lined with quaint Sears & Roebuck houses and well-worn brick storefronts...

around the corner to warm fireplaces and the heavenly aroma of Amish-style bread, chicken, and noodles.

As homemade cream slowly melts into my rich hot chocolate, I break open a fluffy roll and spread velvety apple butter across it.

Then, the buffet. Chicken, pot roast, ham, stuffing, vegetables... and noodles.

Ohhhh, those noodles. I spoon pile HEAP them on my plate over a gloriously creamy serving mound MOUNTAIN of mashed potatoes. Of course, my dad's mountain is usually twice as big, and then he goes back for seconds... or thirds.

I can't move.