Moments

I laid in bed as I heard the alarm go off in my moms bedroom across the hall. I could hear her moving around in her room but I still laid there. Pretending,Wishing,Hoping.

A part of me wanted to roll over and try and go back to sleep, but I knew I had to get up for school. That wasn’t the reason I stayed lying in my bed though. I stayed in my bed because I knew that if my mom saw me, seemingly, still asleep she would come over and rub my back to wake me up.

She would touch me. Something longer than a hurried half hug as I or her ran out the door. Something more solid than all the times I daydreamed of someone giving me a hug. More comforting than the imagined hands on my shoulders that I sometimes thought of to try and tell myself that I was safe. More stable than my own, cold, trembling hands that I would try and use to lull myself to sleep at night.

It had been so long since someone had held me or hugged me and said that everything would be alright. So long since someone had just hugged me to help me feel safe. So so long.

I saw my mom come into the room; light from the hallway making her look like a silhouette. I closed my eyes as she got closer so she wouldn’t see I was already awake.

Please. I thought Just a bit.

She put her hand on my back and rubbed it as she spoke. “Emma it’s time to wake up.”

I stayed still for a moment not wanting her hand to leave me. Wanting it to stay there for just one more moment. 

But then she pulled her hand away and left the room trusting me to get up and get ready. I laid there for one more moment remembering the feeling of her warm hand on my back trying to recreate it so I could feel the touch for just a little bit longer.

Finally I sat up and went to get ready for the day knowing that I would remember those moments when my mothers warm hand had touched me and try to imagine them into existence because that was the only thing I would get that day besides side hugs and high fives.

Teenagers don’t get eight hugs a day. They get moments they wish could stay.