The safest place in the world for me is my dad’s big bear hugs, very cliché I know, but it’s true. Ever since I was little and I was upset or scared my dad would always be there to give me one of his big, warm, strong hugs and I would know I was safe. When I would have nightmares and go crying to my parents room, or there was a thunder storm that would make me want to hide under the bed.
When I came home from school one day to see both my parents cars in the driveway even though they were supposed to be at work, and got the news that we had to put our dog down because she couldn’t stand up on her own anymore. The same dog we had had since I was 3 and had a big pink bow tied around her neck, my dad was waiting for me in my room and hugged me until I stopped crying. When my grandmother passed away from a stroke, after years of Alzheimer’s and slowly forgetting who I was. My dad’s mother, the one who would have all the grandkids over Easter morning to decorate Easter baskets and send us on a parade up and down the street to show them off and had a big box of dress up clothes in the basement for us to play with. My dad was there to hug me and make it just a little bit better.
No matter where I am or what happens to me I know I will always feel better once my dad gets there and gives me one of his big bear hugs.
Sure, that idea works, even if your father's embrace is not a place in the sense that a room, a parking lot, a classroom, a forest clearing are places. Two very strong examples in graf 2.
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