Grown In A Blink

For anyone afraid of growing up, know that you are loved, that you are cherished, and that you will be okay.

Shooing away subconscious thought, peace clouded the darkness of my mind. Black silk wavered as morning broke through the silence of dreams. My eyelashes fluttered, and I buried my vision deep into the rising sun outside my…room? Only, the room constructed before me was not the one I saw as my eyes shut last night; it was more organized than the childish one I had fallen asleep in. As my eyesight swept across the furniture, I recognized pieces belonging to my parents. The oak armoire passed down since my great grandparents first weeks in America rested across the room. The caramel wood stain was kept neat by my father, but I noticed a few pale scratches that begged repair.

I lifted the champagne comforter that buried my body and swung my legs off the side of the king bed; this movement seemed heavier than I remembered. I glanced down at my legs. All of my baby fat is gone…I actually have muscle on these things….

I must have exercised in my sleep.

A lot.

I shook my head to clear away the lasting fog of dreams, and I gently placed my feet on the cold hardwood floor. Goosebumps slithered their way up my pale arms. Something similar to a breeze brushed through my mind and whispered that the scene before me wasn’t right with the common order of life. My straight chestnut hair brushed across my face like an evening shadow as I gathered myself and shuffled to the mirror resting upon the wall; the steps to the gilded mirror were a blur of mindlessness.

I gathered my thoughts before the reflection in front of me. Two hands swept the strands that had fallen across my face behind two pierced ears; chocolate brown eyes looked back into mine, fringed with brown eyelashes. Those features I recognized; however, the cheekbones in the mirror were more refined than mine, and I don’t remember lips with such a hard, worried line, either. It’s as if the skin over my face was stretched with an infinitesimal pressure and then given a young adult’s glow as I slept. The face in the mirror had grown overnight. Fear gathering in the shining midst of the mirror’s eyes, I blinked, eyelashes dancing up and down, as my brain swirled to the conclusion my heart avoided. I licked my lips, and the world became unfamiliar and haunting like fog in a graveyard a million miles away.

I stumbled to the door and grasped the cold metal, turning the brass knob, clinging to it for support. My heart was pounding like an ambulance siren. In the hallway, my feet slid upon the forest green carpet, and my hands scratched along the wood-paneled wall until I reached the stairs.

“MOM! DAD! Anyone home?” my lips moved without a moment’s hesitation as I raced through the doors of our house. I found myself drowning in a state of panic, looking…searching, but finding not a single trace of my parents. I ended in the garage, crumbled up on the cold cement floor, staring with a bitter hatred at the old Ford truck Dad had bought me for my sixteenth birthday for no other car resided here. My toenails ground into the gray floor and my feet welcomed the chill that raced through my body: It was better than the sadness. I loved that truck…but I loved my father more, and I wanted him back. I felt my eyes gather tears, emotions crowding their way through my mind. In this state, I curled myself tighter together and buried my head in my knees.

I was an adult, and the only consolation I had was the fact that God was guiding me. My body shivered, sobs tearing through it. As the chill of the morning froze my soul and darkened my spirits, I lifted myself up and an idea sparked a fire inside me. I must have mom and dad’s number in my cell.

The kitchen table was just as I remembered it; the only change was the center piece that always held Queen Anne’s lace, Mom’s favorite flower. Now, pink roses, my favorite, filled the crystal cylinder. Behind the velvet petals sat my purse. I snatched it and felt a layer of my heart calm because I knew that their numbers would be in here. Flipping open my phone, I found I had two missed callers; both left messages. I dialed the voicemail and listened as my heart skipped a loving, cherished, unmistakable beat.

Mom’s sweet voice came first, “First of all, Dad says that if your truck needs fixing you come find us right away because he knows no one else in this town can fix it. Second, I love you and you are going to be an amazing young woman out there on your own. And last, we will always be here for you. Never forget that. If you lose your way, just pray and God will provide.” The tone went, and then I waited for the next message to play.

Dad spoke, “I don’t think your mom said, so I’m gonna say it: Do not let anyone but me touch your truck. By the way, before we left last night, mom switched the flowers on the table but you probably went to bed before you noticed. Anyway, I guess that means you grew up, darlin’. I’m not going to bother you, but if I see any men leaving that house past one in the morning, I am not going to be a happy camper. Call us tomorrow…night, sweetheart.”

The quiet sobbing I heard must have been me. I was an adult, but my parents loved me: I was alone, but always watched over. Clasping my phone close to my heart, I sank into one of the cushioned chairs and buried my head in relief. Peace washed over me, and fog covered my thoughts like black silk.

 

A midnight sea filled my mind while peace contorted my dreams into memories. Awakening from a dream I couldn’t quite remember, I blinked into the sunlight of a new day. My bed lay beneath me, and I knew that it comforted me like the love of my parents does.

I was left only with a memory of love.