Comfort to me is being rolled up in my mickey mouse blanket thats been handed down so many times from one cousin to another, its the most softest, and oldest blanket in our family. It is the toasty grass smelling candles my sister in law lights every time we watch a movie. Comfort to me is the corner of the huge sofa we fight for at my cousin’s apartment. It lies in the pages of the Quran I read, to fill my heart with peace. It is falling asleep and having deep morning dreams after the fajr prayer. Comfort is sitting around eating junk food and watching superhero shows all day. Comfort is in the soft inside of my old old shoes. Comfort is in my mom’s saris, draped around me, filling me with her memories. Comfort is the sound of my dad’s voice on the phone, thousand’s of miles away, but so close to my ears. The vibrations rolling through, his light cough, chuckle, a few words, his goodbyes…making me miss him that much more. Comfort is in the photographs I take, and the memories I capture. Comfort to me is the mangosteen tea my cousin makes me when I’m sick. Comfort is bangali food when it’s raining, hot coffee when its cold, an iced one when its hot….Comfort to me is a text message from an old friend, a smile from a stranger, a hug from my besties. These are the little things that give me comfort, keeps me going, and keeps me content through this tough tough time.