Liv in a Life Well-Lived

I was lying in bed already when Gabe came in to say sorry for fighting with me earlier this night. He hugged me so tightly and I melted and now we're okay again. But his hug reminded me of something.... It took me a moment to remember. I might have been subconsciously hoping that Gabe finds comfort in my arms the same way I found comfort in the arms of my parents. Then it brought me there, to that pinnacle of memories, and I was stunned by how long it took me to remember --- How did it feel to be hugged by them again? When was it the last time I hugged them? How did it feel again to hold their hands? What was their skin like again? Were their hair soft or coarse? I have vague memories of warmth and softness, but the physicality of it evades me now. There was one night when Daddy, Mummy, Ella and I were in the same room, sleeping on a small twin bed. We were like sardines atop one another. But nobody complained. I remember that I sat up on a chair and watched them sleep. I listened ...

waiting for her life to make the old sounds it used to have. Any time now, the house, which used to be so full of people will reverbrate and crash once more with the yapping of dogs, snatches of conversations, laughter, the banging of pots... Any minute now, her father will come up the stairs and ask her to type his mid-term exam due tomorrow. Any second now, the whisper of her mother's feet as she scuffles around the master's bedroom will alert her that she's in her puttering mood again. Any moment now, her life will start moving again. The cogs and wheels momentarily held in time will creak and sputter to life. Hold it... hold it... She sits in her chair, writing down her thoughts, asking herself what sadness is, trying to remember the old music she used to hum along with. It never comes.