Familiarity.

As I was walking down the hallway to my room just now, I realized that I was navigating through my house in almost complete darkness. I live in the middle of the forest, not a street light to be seen. I could hear the ceiling creaking above me from where my parents were getting ready for bed, a groan that I've grown so accustomed to that I don't even notice anymore. Even the soft thumps from my overweight cat as she comes down the stairs is like music to my ears, a rhythm that is so natural and ingrained it's not only familiar - it brings me comfort. 

I like familiarity. I'm not a person who is naturally inclined to try new things, enjoy meeting new people, travel to new places. I'm a homebody. I suffer from social anxiety. I wouldn't say that I don't like change, though I'm sure that's partly true. Rather, I like the comfort of knowing - what I'm doing, who I'm with, where I am.

There's something...liberating about being so comfortable. It sounds strange but it's true. I feel a sort of freedom knowing I can walk around my house in the dark without stubbing a toe - that the scratching coming from outside my window is from the bat that roosts there in the fall, that the faint rattle I hear during the night is from Teddy, my best stuffed companion since I was 5, being rustled around my blankets; that the squeak emanating from across the house is from the bedroom door and that means it's 5:45 in the morning and my dad's getting ready for work. I can smell the eggs my mom is cooking and learn that today is going to be hot, hot, hot from the channel 3 news. I hear the air conditioning clang outside my window and know that soon I'll be able to tuck myself back into the blankets I kicked away during the night. I know that the cat will come into my room shortly after my dad comes in to say "goodbye, have a good day, drive safe" to meow at me, tease me into petting her once, before turning her back on me and wandering out my door, left slightly ajar, before my mom will run in, yell a quick goodbye, and run out of the house, always in a perpetual, unnecessary hurry.

I know all this without opening my eyes. I know all this without even thinking.

There's a freedom in familiarity.