Sometimes what she missed most about being a child was sleeping on her grandma’s lap, dreaming of all the characters in the fairy tales she heard before sleep. Her mind clear, without the veil of worries haunting her. Her heart free of the heavy weight she felt as an adult, of the things that needed to get done, of places she needed to be, of people she needed to heed.
She missed the innocent nights where she would just talk, all night, with her grandma about nothing and everything, without being judged…from the number of cookies she ate that day to the new friend she made at the park. Her grandma in turn would tell her about her own childhood stories of being the only girl in school growing up, about her favourite dish as a child, about her own grandma who she grew up with. They would lay there laughing about the neighbour next door who was too loud, they would talk about the fish they bought from the market that day. She missed her grandma’s laugh when she hugged her, but what she missed most was falling asleep on her grandma’s lap.
story and image copyright neha 2015
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