Let's Go Back. And Stay Awhile.

Years ago I was in Utah visiting Jamie. We were in her room just talking. Inevitability, something was wrong with me. How I got there I have no idea but I vividly remember my head on her lap. She was stroking my hair and it was one of the most comforting things that I had ever felt. It was the first time anyone had ever done that to me. It wasn't awkward or uncomfortable. It was soothing and I felt safe. I knew that she was my friend and she loved me so much. Jamie began talking, as she does. But there is something so special to when Jamie talks. Part of it is her voice. It has this calming effect that I can't describe. But a good portion of it has to do with what she says. She has this uncanny way of knowing what is appropriate. When it's best to deal with the situation at hand or distract me. She doesn't push me, yet she leaves the door wide open. She's patient with me, perhaps sometimes to a fault. This particular day in her room Jamie decided to tell me a story. She held my head gently and brushed her fingers through my hair and told me about her childhood at her cabin. She described everything with detail. Her voice inflected emotion and the love she has for the wonderful people that raised her, and the sisters she grew up with. I closed my eyes and pictured the scene she was painting for me. I nearly felt the love and happiness that had been missing from my life, from my childhood. I never wanted it to end. I wanted to just be safe forever. Feel loved. Feel cared about. But eventually I had to get up. Eventually I had to come back home. Eventually I had to continue to grow up.

Last night I was in bed and my insides were shaking. My heart was beating too fast. My head hurt more than I could really bear and all I wanted to do was cry. I closed my eyes and that moment with Jamie entered my mind. I just wish I could go back.

Often we reminiscence about our childhood and how easy things were. We think about years spent playing, laughing, and simply being oblivious to real pain. We say if only we could back to here, or back to there. Most of the time it's chunk of years. Go back to kindergarten, first grade, elementary school as a whole. But my childhood knew pain at a very young age. I can't say I just want to go back to being a kid. I only, throughout my 21 years, can give you moments. Days at best, but mostly just an hour or two. A tiny fragment of time when the world seemed better. When my heart didn't feel as though it was breaking within my chest. When my tears weren't unseen but lovingly wiped away. When a smile spread across my face and wasn't forced or completely fake. When I didn't feel alone, or like I was in some way a burden.

I just want a little bit of sunshine for my cloudy day.