I cannot describe the comfort I feel there. I miss it. For almost twenty years I had arms to hold me whenever the world tried to beat me up.
Then, those arms were gone. I stood alone. When it got to be too much I wrapped myself in a quilt and hid from the world. But there were no arms. No steady heartbeat. No forehead kisses. No chin resting on the top of my head. No quiet strength. No protector.
I survived, wrapped in my quilt, Tommy-dog at my side.
Today I stood in the kitchen, exhausted, contemplating my options. I wanted a bit of whiskey, but I couldn't decide which I was in the mood for.
Life's been...a lot the last fortnight or so and I don't see an end.
I knew what I wanted.
I wanted arms.
I wanted comfort.
I wanted to feel safe and warm.
I wanted to know somewhere there was a man who cares. Really cares. About me. About Kristin.
My eyes landed on a particular bottle of liquid sunshine and I smiled slightly.
I have arms.
Amazingly, there are two sets of arms.
Two good guys.
Two who know me for me.
Two who will tell me when I'm being stupid.
Two who care.
They aren't here, and they aren't mine, but I have arms when I need them.
When boys are stupid and life is hard, I can close my eyes and sip the whisky I drank with them and hide in a remembered hug.
x
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