There are memories clogged in my thoughts, a pink tiny dress that barely fits my 5 years old self anymore and squeezes against my waist as I hold my breath feigning a smile of comfort to my mum. ‘Little one, let go of the dress’. Said my mum.
‘It is still my size mummy’ I replied.
I still remember the soft feel of the fabric against my touch, its bright color and the tiny poker dots of black.
I remember my dad's firm grip on my hand at an event as we walked to his car on a visiting day at the boarding house. It felt comforting and reassuring that everything no matter how dreadful was going to be fine. Although his passing shook that feeling.
Now I am reminded that I am grown. The elderly people who have seen me grow remind me, as their mantra.
It does feel good to be sought after. I'm not sure I am done being sought after even if it has been a long time coming and the wait, almost becoming home.
I don't want to be so eager to leave the comfort zone I have created out of fear of being lonely in the end and the perks of the wait lures me to keep on waiting. I might get tired of the wait and that too is a scary thought.
Decisions need to be made, so I meet the expert on decisions and ask for guidance. He is the maker after all and knows me more than I do myself. Because of that I feel safe and less unsure.
I know it will all pan out for the best because I trust the one who has never let go of the grip of my hand no matter how hard I tugged at it.
®️Whitney Alexander
