Today I Felt Nostalgia.

Today I felt nostalgia.

I get home from work and chat with my brother for a bit before going upstairs to shower. I lay in my bed, dozing as my sleep is interrupted by a call. My cousin, she tells me to come with her and my brother to eat at my grandparents house. I didn’t even realize my brother had left. I tie my hair up without drying it properly and walk over, annoyed and amused over the fact my brother had stolen my car, forcing me to walk in the chilly evening. When I get there, my cousin’s already left, home to nap before she goes to cheer. My brother leaves soon too, something or other he has to do that I can’t remember.

I stay with my grandma, sitting infront of the fireplace older than me. Without it the house would have frozen long ago. I listen to the sound of her cooking, lulled by her soft words. She’s cooking enough to feed my family and my cousin’s.

My grandpa comes in, tired from moving wood to their outdoor shack. I watch him eat and I’m reminded of his age, his bruised hands from slow tired blood. He goes to bring wood inside and I rush to help. He’s older now, somehow, I’m not sure when, I can carry more wood than him. After I watch them sit tired and I sweep the floor for them, cleaning the trails of dirt and wood chips.

I notice the tiles as I sweep. they’re duller then i remember. The cement in between each tile seemed more cracked than before.

I sit with my back to the hearth again, enjoying it warming my clothes and my chilled skin. My grandma sits next to me on a woven stool. I let my hair down to dry it with the heat and she ruffles it playfully. She smiles and laughs at my colored, damp hair, scolding me lightly for the dyed streaks in my dark hair.

Soon enough she drags me close to her, I sit on the ground in front of her as she rubs and scratches my back and damp head. I know that I should be doing this for her, but she always insists. Even though she’s in her chair and I’m on the ground, I’m still as tall as her, I’ve been taller than her for a while but this points it all out even stronger. She tugs my head until I’m rested in her lap. My neck cramps from the odd angle, my spine sore from the bend. My body is tense, worried about the weight I rest on her but I can’t bring myself to sit up.

It’s been so long since I’ve been held, no- doted on like this. I remember doing this as a child, the strain on my back nonexistent. I could lean on her legs with ease. Her hair was darker then, her skin less wrinkled, her hands stronger.

I still feel like a child, though. In her hands, I still feel as vulnerable and fragile as the small girl I was.

When I sit up, no longer able to stand the strain on my back, it isn’t only my bones that ache.

My hair is dry by now, and I’m not sure what I mourn as I tie it back up in its tight knot.

Today I felt nostalgia.