This is where it is
I was reading this funky hippie book and the phrase kept coming up, “Where it’s at” as in “This is where it’s at” or trying to find out “where it’s all at” and I really had to ponder that phrase for some time to really understand it.
This here is where it is for me: my fluffy robe, wool slippers, and the ticketytick of the keyboard under my fingers. The smell of fresh laundry as I fold it into the basket. The feel of the dog’s warm breath puffing against my lower leg as we snuggle on the couch. The scent of lemon scented jasmine rice steaming on the stove. The ability to recall the emotional stability of those simple moments when I am scurrying down aisle 13 to locate an item, paging for a clerk to return so the next one can leave, or sweating over a snafu at the register, that’s when I need to remember where it’s at for me. Where it’s at is in the heart, in the soul, in the resting place of your spirit ready to be remembered when you are frazzled and rushed and anxious.
Where is it for you?