What Became of this Little Ball of Emotion

I feel like I left the blogging community for so long that it has isolated me. Blogger confirmed that by asking me for my password when I logged it, which it never does. So thanks for THAT vote of confidence!

I'm a little ball of emotions today (the little voice in my head is asking me when I'm ever not a little ball of emotions, and in response, I say "shut up"). I'm seeing my hunk of a lover this weekend (hi boyfriend) so the butterflies are beginning their descent even though I'm only seeing him on Saturday. I'm stressed because I'm hosting something at my house on Saturday for a friend's eighteenth. I can't say what (yet) as it is a surprise, but as soon as the weekend is over I will reveal all! Last, but not least, I cried at school today (yes - at school) because I wrote an essay that got me all emotional. I wanted to share it with my adoring fans. **bows**. Just kidding - hi mom.

What the elephant in the room should have kept to itself

It couldn't have been more than eight years ago - a split second in cosmic time - but it truly feels so long ago that I wouldn't be surprised if such a time in my life existed simultaneously with Adam and Eve.

It was a frequent occurrence in my life: days spent at my grandparents house. I loved everything about them and their ivory-walled mansion on Glenwood Drive. I loved that the little fence that stood, taller than me at that point in time, and guarded our property from all sides, was lined with jasmine which you could smell as soon as you turned into the driveway. I loved that it didn't have an electric gate like most houses now, and then, but instead, a two-doored rusty-hinged gate that was locked shut with a padlock every night, the moment the sun set. I loved that the same troop of dogs always greeted me with their familiar wet noses. I loved that my granny always made the best food no matter what meal of the day it was. I loved that the house always seemed to grow secret passages in preparation for my next visit. My absolute favourite thing was that the house never had a dull moment. It was always filled with happy family members, good food and more love than most people know in a lifetime.

On my return to my childhood home, I'm not pleased with how it makes me feel: old. There are no more wet-nosed happy-tailed dogs - not even one. Neither of my grandparents are standing at the front door to see their grandchildren into their home. The pool that my whole family used to spend hours in is now green from neglect ion. The corridors are empty and even the jasmine is gone.

I suppose it was always there - the inevitable. It was in every corner of every warm room. It was there, watching us as our family of eight - sometimes more, depending on who was visiting that weekend - sat around the dinner table with full stomachs and happy hearts. It was with us on our adventures into the secret passageways and into the forest-like garden at the bottom of the house. It was the elephant in the room; the unopened letter on the counter.

Thus far, I have had the most spectacular life and I don't hesitate in thinking that it is going to get even better, but there is nothing I would give up these memories for and, if I could, nothing would stop me from reversing time and replaying the first ten years of my life until I'm too happy to remember how to miss something this much.