safe

When I was a kid, safety looked like the approval in my mom’s eye as she looked over my homework. It tasted like the crust-less peanut butter and grape jelly sandwiches lovingly prepared by my grandma’s hands. Calm and comfort sounded like Daddy’s chatter-whistles as he called squirrels over for us to feed in the park. Safety felt like the heft and softness of my down comforter, right after my parents tucked me in, kissed my on the forehead, and turned my nightlight on.