Held

Tonight I miss my childhood.

I miss the way my Nan dipped onto to her knees and told me how precious I was to her. With her entire body, especially her eyes.

I miss the way my Mum held me when I cried. I miss the feeling of our two aches melting into one, and somehow just knowing that was a beautiful, beautiful thing.

I’ve never missed the safe pieces of childhood before—at least not consciously, and I’d imagine it’s because most adults become adults and assume that the word adult means: ‘safe enough’ and ‘responsible enough’.

Well, I’m here to tell you…no.

Actually no.

I believe that adult means: whoever and whatever you are, when you are it.

And what I am right now, is aching for the child I once was, and the beautiful world of love that enveloped her during her younger years.

I ache to be emotionally held. Because that’s how it all began for me.

Of course I miss it.

I’ve learned to meditate and open my heart, and thank-goodness for that because it fills me with all the lovely things, including the beautiful feeling of being held in the way I so often feel I need to be.

Still, I miss the feeling of being emotionally held by another, without judgement.

Without judgement.

I just do, I miss it.

And so I miss my childhood.

I also know it’s okay that I miss my childhood.

That part, I think, might be the beautiful silver lining of this grey story.