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 French 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 Daddy'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 Easter dresses and patent leather shoes that you could see your reflection in.
I miss licking the all the frosting off the tops of cupcakes, 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 noodle soup could really cure anything or a kiss would make anything feel better. I miss running to my parents when they'd come home from work and feeling their warmth and the weight of their heavy winter coats wrapping me up in their 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 sweater and Nana's temperament. 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 Mom'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.