yearning to be held
I stood in front of the bathroom door staring at my mother’s back as she wiped the mirror clean with a newspaper.
She caught my reflection in the mirror and asked “yes? Do you need anything?”
“A hug” I thought to myself.
A whole minute of silence flood the quiet space. I went inside the bathroom with her to pee as a disguise to my real intention, yet failing to accomplish the task once I got up the toilet.
I stood by the doorway again as she washed her hands clean. She raised her eyebrows in a smile, “what is it?”
“Can I have a hug?” I screamed in my head.
Another moment of silence filled the suffocating air I could hardly breathe.
I gave up.
I dreadfully walked to my room in defeat and helplessness, tears bursting out my eyeballs as soon as I closed the door.
How pathetic.
My mother is the loveliest woman in my life; she will never reject me, yet I can’t figure out for the life of me why I couldn’t bring myself to show vulnerability and ask for love.
In this house, love was a sign of weakness.
I was yearning to be held.
Instead I drowned myself in self-pity, cradled by the comfort of my pillows, listening for familiar footsteps at every creak trying to decipher who it was walking along the corridor.
A bucket of tears and a half later, I gathered all my remaining dignity and quietly ran to the door, gently surprising my mom once again who was simply walking back to their room. She looked at me with her sweet eyes, “What’s wrong?”
I stretched my arms out to the ground, barely making a 45 degree angle but recognizable enough as a gesture of asking for a hug. She embraced me softly and confused, slightly worried, still asking what’s wrong. We parted bodies, and I shrugged, flailing my arms and poking her belly as a distraction while I carry the bloodshot eyebags on my face — the one you get after a hearty crying session. She lingered around my doorstep for a whole minute, fidgeting with the boxes she was carrying in her hands, waiting for me to say something. I said nothing and continued flailing. She bid me goodnight, sneaking in a faint murmur of I love you before completely disappearing from my sight.
I closed my door, laid in bed, and patiently waited for the next opportunity to be held.