I open my eyes to panic. Everyone seems nervous and frantic and the room is alive with noises and sounds. After a moment, I cry. Immediately it is quiet and a large pair of calloused hands gently grab me and hand me to my mother. Her grasp is strong, loving; I feel hot wet tears upon my back.
Next I feel the warm, spiky chest of my father and I smell the coffee on his breath. His breathing, so deep and soothing - one could fall asleep here. Giant, hairy arms hold me as if I was a rare priceless heirloom. He kisses my forehead, repeatedly, and whispering "thank you, thank you, thank you."
I am here.
Tests are performed, heads are nodded and the doctors and nurses hastily retreat, leaving us. Time passes. An occasional beep or click from the machines briefly disturbs the peace. The three of us lay together on the narrow bed surrounded by monitors - a unit, a team, a family.
I am exhausted. Really really tired. I want to experience it all, my new world, but I must rest. The warmth of my mother's body captures me. I could live here. A door slides open, words are deeply murmured out of sight, before the door slides shut. A phone rings, words are exchanged, I sleep.
I am awake.
It is dark outside, giving the room a brighter look. My eyes struggle to see. My senses, what I have of them, are alive with wonder. I find myself on my own and I worry, am I alone? I cry. Quickly, large hands grasp me and clutch me and rock me. I no longer feel the need to cry. Outside the windows, the world may be dark, but inside this room, it could not be more bright.
People have visited and they insist on holding me. I don't mind this for a while, but after a bit I decide that I am hungry and let out a loud wail. Knowing smiles light up the gathered faces, goodbyes are said and kisses exchanged. The room has become quickly quiet again aside from my whimpering.
Life is simple.
My mother sings softly, rocking me in her arms as she stands by the window. Above our reflection, stars are like shiny dots scattered on a near-black canvas. As my tiny eyes stare at the sky above, I hear the low rumbly breathing of my father who is passed out on a cot behind us.
The time has come to go home. I am bundled up for the journey into the real world. A door opens and my face is struck by the briskness of the winter's air. I gasp and my parents laugh before placing me into my car seat. Though I have only been around for two days, I sense the enormity of the journey ahead.
Time, please stop.
~~~~~
Sleep ends and I survey my surroundings. I am in the car with my mother who is nervously talking to herself as she drives. While I have begun to speak recently, I elect not to at this moment so as not to disturb her as she seems deep in thought. Even at my early age, I wonder if she is okay.
My mother carries me from the car as if I were fragile. It is a windy, rainy morning and I can just sense that something is happening. I cling to my mother's neck as if my life depended on it as we walk up the steps of a house I do not recognize.
This is spring.
A bright-eyed woman answers the door. Behind her I hear the noises of children playing and I smell something delicious. After a few pleasantries, we enter into a colourful room and my mother places me down in front of some large wooden blocks. She knows me so well.
I play for a moment while my mother exchanges hushed words with this woman before turning to look at me and waving goodbye. "What?!?!" I think. I am hit by a ton of bricks as I quickly realise that she plans to leave me here. I begin to cry.
This is alone.
The woman tries to pick me up, but I am having nothing of it. I crawl as fast as I can towards the retreating steps of my mother. It must be a mistake. I can't stay here. Why would she do this to me, to us? As she exits, she turns back; crying and blows me a kiss before closing the door behind her.
I wail. The other children, though we have just met, decide to show their support for my cause by wailing as well. The walls seem to shake with our tears. How long am I to stay here? Will she ever come back? What did I do to deserve this?
This is two.
She catches me off guard and picks me up; cradling me in her arms. She smells of talcum and bananas and her hair is soft. A lullaby I recognize plays in the background. My tears have stopped flowing, but I am still breathing hard and fast. She whispers the lyrics in my ear as she bounces me in her arms.
The banana bread was delicious. I am sitting on the big red carpet next to my new playmates and we are playing with stuffed animals. I have lost track of how long I've been here for, and while I am still angry and confused at my mother, I am slowly starting to relax and have fun.
Time, please stop.
~~~~~~
It is a fall day. Though warm, summer seems like a distant memory. Baseball practice had ended, I lingered with my friends, losing track of time and then ran home afterwards so my mom wouldn't worry. She did anyways.
Homework was completed, milk and cookies consumed and a cartoon was watched. My brother had called that morning and my mom excitedly talked about his life as if it were her's. I miss him tremendously.
I am nine.
I'm sitting by the windowsill and watching the rain outside as it dances on the sidewalk and jostles the few leaves that are left remaining on the tree in my frontyard. The rain is mesmerizing and I silently listen to the music it makes.
My mother is in the kitchen preparing dinner, chopping, blending, rattling the pans. The delicious aromas are drifting throughout the house, searching for me and, once I am found, wrapping around me like a warm flannel shirt.
I feel safe.
My father is late coming home from work, again, and I am anxiously awaiting the warm feeling of his breath on my cheek, the sharp bristles of his two-day old beard that scrape my face and his hug that I wish would last for days.
Our living room is so cozy and colourful. It is clear that a loving family resides here. There are photos of smiling relatives on the mantle; old drawings of mine when I was small adorn the walls and an in-progress game of Monopoly sits on the coffee table.
I have everything.
This day was like so many others I experienced as a child that it is almost forgettable, and yet it isn't. Funny how the mind works, what it chooses to hold on to, to keep, to cherish. The radio is turned on and the evening news begins.
Dad should he home by now. A small amount of concern creeps in. My mother startles me "Come taste the sauce" and I move to her as if pulled by a magnet, it is amazing and I tell her so, nestled into her woolen sweater, just as we hear dad's truck pull into the garage.
Time, please stop.
~~~~~
Around me there was such nervousness and pentup energy that it was almost driving me crazy. I tried to focus my thoughts amidst the noise and I closed my eyes and breathed deeply and smiled.
I placed the final dot on the final I of my final essay in school and mentally pumped my fist before abruptly standing, surveying the large exam room and almost literally bouncing out of the room.
I am free.
I crossed the stage proudly in my cap and gown while my family and friends and classmates cheered in the audience. It hit me that after years of hard work I was finally graduating and I welled up with tears of pride and happiness.
Our eyes met across the busy foyer afterwards and the smile she sent me melted my heart. I wanted to run to her and kiss her, but now was not the time. Mom, dad and I posed again and again for photos to capture this moment, this memory.
I am ready.
We sat in our limo; her in her spectacular red and sparkling dress and me in my rented tuxedo. I couldn't believe we were here in this moment on our way to celebrate our graduation and also say goodbye to so many people.
Dinner was served, speeches were made, photos taken and we danced the evening away. Others spoke of being sad, and saying goodbye but I had never been happier and more ready for the next chapter of my life.
I am eighteen.
Mom leaned against the wall in my now strangely empty room and cried. While dad was helping me pack my remaining sweaters and shoes into my duffel bag I couldn't help but notice how gray his hair had turned.
I was leaving for college, with her, and as I stood outside the only house I had ever lived in, surrounded by my not-so-young and emotional parents, I felt frozen. I wanted and needed to leave, but tears poured from my eyes as the taxi waited patiently as I hugged my parents like I was a small boy again.
Time, please stop.
~~~~~~
She splashed playfully in the water, full of pure elation, beckoning me with her eyes to come join her. I couldn't look elsewhere even if I had wanted to. Pretty, bright, funny and I longed to hold her and kiss her and be kissed in return.
The beach was hot that day and we lay on white sand-covered towels next to each other. The sun bore down on us as we lay there motionless. I burned slightly, but I was so happy, lying there listening to the water and the seagulls, mere inches away from pure beauty.
This is love.
The picnic basket opened and our senses were pleasantly attacked by the wonderful aroma of freshly baked sourdough bread. Figs were sliced and apples crunched and thin sliced of cheese were delicately placed by her slender fingers to complete perfect sandwiches.
She hit the birdie high into the blue sky where I momentarily lost it in the blinding sun of this brilliant summer day. Everywhere in my memory of this day there are colours; long strands of light green grass, random scatterings of scarlet wild flowers, her purple blanket where we lay intertwined without a care in the world.
This is happiness.
I am pushing her high on the swings in the children's playground. Up and down, up and down, her long red hair flying aimlessly in the wind. She laughed as she would have when she was little. It hurt not to share the depths of my feelings, but I hesitated, not wanting to ruin this moment.
She joins me on the slide and touches my hand, softly. I remember this moment so vividly; it felt as if every hair on my body was standing straight up and if a strong enough gust of wind had come by, it would have lifted me clear off the ground.
This is 23.
She walks ahead of me, daring me to try to catch her. She keeps looking back over her shoulder to catch my eye, only to turn back quickly. I want to catch her, and she knows that, enjoying playing mouse to my cat. She glances once more, over her shoulder, smiling with her entire body.
The sun sets. I lay with my head in her lap and gaze up at the first twinkling stars of the evening. A soft breeze plays with her hair and I see the colours of the sky reflect in her beautiful eyes. A perfect, unforgettable day is coming to an end. As I lay there, I couldn't help but dream of a future with her.
Time, please stop.
~~~~~
