Running from Wolves

Finding our inner ‘homely coziness’

My sister and I used to play a game.

When we were young, and our parents were going out, they took us with them. Not the disco-type of evening program, but eating out for dinner or visiting friends. While we were in the restaurant, chatting over our spaghetti, the previously blue sky turned dark outside.

When we left the location, we had to look for the parked car in the pitch-black night. The path was hardly visible. Trees and bushes hid everything left and right of the kerbstone. The darkness filled our little bodies with attentiveness. I could feel the hair rise on my arms, the goosebumps.

Fear stinging like needles. Even though there was nothing to be afraid of.

We blocked out the fact that our parents were walking behind us. In our minds, we were alone.

I looked at my sister. She nodded. And then we sprinted to the car, as fast as we could, as if wolves were coming after us.

Whoever got last would be eaten by the creatures. They live in the dark and are always hungry. Every child knows that.

Once we managed to get into the car, I could feel the adrenalin circling through my veins.

From one minute to the other, I felt secure. A special type of comfort and invulnerability that only parents and home can give to children.

Now the wolves couldn’t hurt me or my sister anymore. We were safe.

Of course, we only imagined the wolves as a game. Now, twenty years later, when I think about our game, I realize they were far more than pure fantasy.

When I slipped into the car in the past, my mind went into a state I would call ‘homely coziness’. A mixture of happiness, unbreakable security, knowing, love. Like nothing bad could happen.

As part of the game, it was easy to switch into this emotional state.

Now, as an adult, it is far more difficult to sense all these positive emotions all at once — without feeling completely ridiculous — and feel this shiver that comes with them.

The security shield my parents held above my sister and me has faded in line with our growing age. That’s natural. But sometimes I wish I could still put myself into this state of ‘everything’s perfectly fine’.

Instead of feeling invulnerable, I know bad things happen in life. Not solely, but they still do.

As a grown-up, I experience far more negativity, insecurity, concerns.

Then, just yesterday, I sat on the balcony at 11 pm, looking into the pitch-black sky again, listening to the noises of the awakening nightlife.

I saw shadows running over the grass in front of my balcony, here something rustling and sniffing.

The cold breeze made my hair on the neck and arms rise.

I closed my eyes and listened. Tried to be in the moment.

And I reminded myself that, no matter what's waiting in the night — troubles at work, bills to pay — it will be okay.

There will always be someone that can help me through. I can walk inside anytime.

I felt a bit of the ‘homely coziness’ again. Security, trust, love.

And, who knows, maybe there were even wolves.