on the things I miss...

I miss waking up to my little sister's smiling face as she quietly sneaks lip gloss off of my bedside table. Her big blue eyes, her tiny, gap-toothed grin. The cat, running inside as someone makes their way out the garage door, rushing down the stairs and under the covers to warm my feet with her soft fur. The comfort and familiarity of my old room - the books on the shelf, my bulletin board, the drawer that held all my journals, the jewelry box that was filled with trinkets and other tiny bits of my past. The ring a boy had given me at the rollerskating rink when I was nine, a tiny bag of lost teeth that my mom kept as a reminder of the child I used to be, the tiny gold locket that no longer fit around my neck, mismatched earrings.

I miss the drive to the local apple orchards every Autumn. The magic of the turning leaves and the sweetness of fresh apple cider. Carving pumpkins on a newspaper-covered kitchen table, our sweaters scrunched up over our elbows, pretending we hated the feel of the slimy pumpkin seeds but secretly loving it. Dressing up for Halloween and begging mom to draw eyelashes and freckles on our faces no matter what we were dressed up as. Candy stashes that lasted for weeks afterwards.

I miss the smell of snow in the air. Waking up to an extra bright glow outside my window and knowing even before opening my eyes that the world had changed overnight. Soft nightgowns that puffed up as I stood over the kitchen vent in the morning to warm my toes. Snow angels and snowmen. That familiar burn in the tips of my fingers after hours spent in the cold weather. That familiar mug of hot chocolate as my sisters and I sat in the kitchen to thaw - our cheeks rosy, our hair matted and messy from the earmuffs, scarves and hats. My dad crumpling up newspaper and chopped wood to build a fire in the evening, filling the room with a comforting glow. The stack of books we knew by heart, the ones that made their annual appearance with each changing season and holiday.

I miss the familiar things. The things I knew would always be there and never even thought of missing someday - because, in a typical childlike way, I guess I never imagined things would ever be any different than they were. They were the things I had grown to expect. Daily laughter with my sisters. Hugs from my dad before going to bed. Fresh huckleberries on top of vanilla ice cream. My mom brushing the tangles out of my hair. Grilled cheese sandwiches and pumpkin chip muffins. The soft voices from down the hallway as my mom and older sister talked at night while I lay in bed, curled up and cozy. Feeling safe, feeling like I was exactly where I needed to be.

These are the things that make it hard to ever really grow up.

Although my present place in life is absolutely wonderful, part of me will always feel like that little girl. Maybe it's because I miss how, back then, I never questioned what I should be doing, or where I should be, or if I was the person I was supposed to be. I just...was. And I miss that security.