When I think about “Keeping Warm” I automatically think of wearing Handy Hubby’s track suit on a cold winters day, sitting in front of a heater with the boys around me and steaming mug of coffee in hand. The rain is pelting on the windows, its cold and miserable outside but inside it’s toasty, cosy and home. We’re all snuggled up on the lounge, under a blanket and rugged up.
Or laying in bed, snuggled up to Handy Hubby having a cuddle, the house is quiet and dark and we’re under the doona all toasty and warm. He’s my hot water bottle.
My mind goes back to all those weekends I braved the winter weather, wrapped up in multiple layers watching Handy Hubby play soccer. Im sitting on the side lines freezing, wearing a beanie, scarf, jumper, his jacket and wrapped in a blanket. I think about the morning we watched the Olympic Torch run by. We woke up at 4 am to make sure we got the best spot. It was freezing! Again I had multiple layers on, but what I remember most is him, cuddling me so that I’d stay warm.
I think about all the family get togethers where we’re all sitting around, multiple conversations running at the same time and over the top of each other. My father in the corner, telling his latest dirty joke, mum in the kitchen and I’m surrounded by family and friends. Handy Hubby sitting beside me and I’m warm.
I eventually realise, it’s not actual physical heat that’s keeping me warm, it’s him. It’s them. My little family that we’ve created, our extended family, our friends. They are my warmth. They are my heat. They defrost me from my chilliest of moods, they bring me light and heat, they make a bad day non-existent.
And it’s on those cold, blustery, miserable days when I’m at my lowest that I remember what’s at home, the fire in my life, keeping warm.