Gathering up comfort where I can
- Melissa Herrera: Not Waiting for Friday
- April 27, 2025
- 40
The birds are twittering around me as I sip hot coffee from my daughter’s backyard in Dania Beach. Her cat Xochi is perched on a stool inside the screened-in porch, sounds from her throat sending the birds a warning: I see you.
It’s a balmy 75, and my shoulders are lightly burned from the shore yesterday. I love that slight tingly feeling because I know it will soon meld into skin I haven’t seen since last summer: tanned, rested. I examined my face in the mirror and know South Florida brings hydration to my parched Ohio face. I don’t make the rules.
I’m here with both of my daughters for a meeting of the minds, a brief wrinkle in time to talk, eat, sleep and rest. In the time I’ve been here, we’ve drank Mystic Coffee, eaten coconut shrimp from Tark’s and gotten a ceviche platter at Mancora off Las Olas. I polished off the ceviche with an exquisite chilcano — a blend of pisco sour and ginger beer.
Today, there is nothing more planned than breakfast, thrifting and beach. My head is spiraling down a path of comfort.
Comfort is something we all deserve and don’t gather enough of. Most days comfort looks like a good cup of coffee and scratching behind my cat’s ears, a kiss from my husband as he gathers me close in the whispery light before dawn. Comfort is plans being canceled and curling up on the couch with a good movie.
The last few months have felt like an onslaught, and I’m scooping up armfuls of comfort as I’m dragged down its path.
Today, we’re exploring some thrift stores, and I can’t wait to finish this column and get started. The ruffled edges of my brain will soon be rubbed smooth as I walk the aisles, kind of like the creatures in “The Last of Us,” of which I just watched the episode we’ve all been dreading. Those frilly cordycep heads trigger me in the worst way. But I’ll watch every episode with glee. Check out the show on Max, if you dare.
But thrifting or doing something you love, like watching your favorite show, also is comfort. It gives you peace, even for a brief moment in the span of a day.
I sat in my beach chair yesterday and listened to the surf break at the edges of the shoreline. I am trying very hard to give myself moments where I am not consumed by the cares of the day in the glare of a screen. It’s hard to lay it down, but treating our minds to rest is imperative so we don’t burn all the way out. There’s so much work to be done after the rest.
I think we’re eating at a Dominican or Nicaraguan place for dinner tonight. I look forward to new textures and tastes on my tongue, to soft languages lilting around me. That in itself is comfort care.
This small backyard filled with softly swaying tropical foliage is a balm to my mind. The coffee is sure and strong, made by hands other than myself, made by my daughter. Having someone make something for you is a comfort beyond explanation. I’m always anticipating others’ needs. What do they need? What can I get for them? I do this so much it’s hard to let others bring me something. I have to intentionally let my neck slowly unfurl as I reach for what’s offered. I don’t have to do it all. I can receive too.
That small space in the center of my back reaches up my spine and undoes the last of the weight I’m carrying. For a few days, the cares are being whisked away.
Melissa Herrera is a reflective writer who captures the beauty and sorrow of change. With a career spanning 14 years as an opinion columnist and the publication of two books, she resides in Stark County with her husband and four cats. She writes to preserve memories. You can reach her at junkbabe68@gmail.com.