I looked down at my hands today and I realized I don't have little kid hands anymore, my hands have signs of work in them, my veins are visible and my fingers are long like my mother's. I always loved her hands and remember looking at my little girl hands wishing they weren't so small, weren't so stumpy, I wanted elegant hands to put pretty rings on and nails long enough for manicures. I don't know when it happened but today my hands belonged to a woman, they didn't belong to a little girl anymore and it made me miss being young with my whole body. It made me miss everything about it; the curiosity, the innocence.
I miss clutching to my father's hands that were so much bigger than mine, that protected and took care of me. I miss swinging all of my body weight on one grip. I miss picking out Christmas dresses and patent leather shoes that you could see your reflection in.
I miss licking all the frosting off the tops of cakes, I miss picking dandelions and crushing the yellow petals between my delicate tiny little fingers. I miss thinking a vanilla ice cream cone was the best thing in the whole world, and that chicken soup could really cure anything or a kiss would make anything feel better. I miss running to my father when he'd come home from work and feeling his warmth as he wrapped me up in his arms and the smell of my mom's perfume.
I miss when I didn't know what it felt like to miss somebody, and I was just excited to see someone I loved at the end of the day. When I didn't know the sound of writing checks, or hearts falling, when I didn't know that not everyone in the world is kind and open. When I assumed good was always the outcome and if someone promised that was enough of a contract.
I miss sticking my tongue out at strangers, making strange noises and throwing fits in public. I miss being connected to myself enough to cry when I was sad. When being analytical, calculated, and manipulative weren't a means to get what you wanted, but a simple please would do. The times when I was conscious of saying my thank you's and excuse me's.
I miss when I was supposed to have a sense of wonder, and people wouldn't warn that soon I would be hardened I miss softness. Blankies, and stuffed animals, granddad's temperament and my grandmother's stories. I miss bedtimes and birthday parties, crushed Goldfish and snack time. Ratty hair and purple nail polish.
When I didn't have to be accountable. When the only fear I knew was that of the dark. When the perfect vacation was one that involved people in costumes with pink cheeks, and parades. When I played house instead of worried about paying for one. When I didn't know how to tell time and just trusted there was always enough of it. Play dates over real ones. Before insecurity and awareness, before anxiety and doubt, before I knew anything about my body and I used it as a means to live in; skip, stretch, climb, and ride bikes.
I miss when guilt, lack, regret, or disappointment weren't emotions that existed to me.
I miss when love was really unconditional, when faith just was, and security always meant Mom and Dad.
When I look at my hands I'm proud of them, I like that they look like my mother's, that they move quickly and have strength, I just wish that they could have stayed young, that I could have stayed young... a little bit longer.
