I found this today amongst probably hundreds of writings from when i was a teenager. I used to write constantly then. I felt sadness, shame, and greatfulness reading over where i’ve come from and how i used to feel. God delivered me from some horrible times and horrible feelings.
But there, among the wreckage of my teenage years……i found something i had written years before my Grandmom Nichols died. I wrote it one day i had spent at her home…..and i found myself remembering……..
i’m looking outside this window memories flooding my mind. i used to live here. this still feels like home to me and i see the fuzzy street lamps—each one holds some of my thoughts. words cannot have enough meaning and i’m sure they just confuse. but i love it here. or maybe it’s just the old times. good times. before i grew up. and i remember when you’d hold me and help me up on a chair to see out the windows. but now i’m a woman. and i look at the world—from the same dirty windows, but i don’t look with eyes of curiousity anymore. i look with eyes of sadness. i don’t enjoy change. i’m not sure what i’ll do without you if that time has to come. oh, how i love you. this house makes me ache within. my life is different now. but the alley outside is still the same. and so is this place. so why does it seem so old? i am grown up now. but i will never grow away. this is me. and this is my home. my first—and my memories will remain—with you.
i still miss her so much. she was so beautiful. a beautiful creature. so strong and so headstrong. in her final hours, she was still strong but in a much different way. i pray and hope that one day i might see her again.
I can still feel her kiss on my cheek and hear her words calling me “sweetie”. I loved her. I love her. So beautiful. So missed.