I long for the familiar smells of pots of stew cooking on the stove on cold winter days
Winds blustering and blowing,
Bodies reaching saturation point,
Hour long bus drives home,
Falling asleep with sheer exhaustion from the days learning.
I long for the hugs which always came when I felt the weakest
Strong, comfortable, reliable hugs,
Hugs that cushion not only the sadness, weariness and heartbreak
But those tight embraces that protect from the blows.
I long for the long holidays spent playing with siblings in the sanctity of our aloneness
The days spent being playful children, laughter permeating the walls,
Tumbles and tickles on beds that felt safe,
Days that led to nights which are not longed for,
But days that felt so good, that the dark night could come if it may.
I long for the constant stench of cigarette smoke soaked into pores
The well known fragrance of hugs and nicotine,
Not bad, not good, but familiar, real and constant,
Nervous energy infuses with the light hearted play
Causing a deep routed, life long dis-ease that lingers.
I long for the unconditional love that I called home for so long
The motherly love that nurtures and builds,
The care that made my bones strong and taught me to be a good mother,
Love that points you in the right direction, when pointing in the wrong direction seems natural.
I long for the uninhibited joy that was only allowed to surface when the monster was in the dock
The joy that made my heart feel light and carefree,
Like a child’s heart is meant to be,
The type of feelings you get when eating your favourite food, around your favourite people, talking about your favourite things,
The joy that stays in my heart and makes me love life despite all the reasons I shouldn’t.
