I was young; five, maybe six years old. I laid with my legs tucked up near my chest on a bed in a room that was familiar: a room I had grown up in. I stared blankly into the television set and listened to the hustle and bustle from the other side of the bedroom door. It was open a crack, just enough for me to peer out into the hallway and see the mingling adults partake in activities which weren't much more than talking and laughing, but that somehow I felt left out of. I felt like crying. I don't know why. I could have stayed in that room all night, curled up in a ball of my own miniscule misery with my face cushioned by a soft yet lonely pillow, but my bladder wouldn't let me. I had to use the bathroom and I finally opened the bedroom door wide enough to reveal me in my faded pink pajamas to everyone in the room, even though I could have been naked and they still wouldn't have noticed. Looking straight ahead, I zig-zagged my way through guests towards the toilet. When the bathroom was in view, I noticed before it a line of about ten random persons waiting to use. This only added to my upset and standing before all of the visitors I glanced up at them with a pitiful look in attempt to convince one of them to quickly let me go. Nothing. I pushed through them once again. I knew where another bathroom was, one off of the master bedroom that no one else would have access to. I started down the long hallway which led to the main bedroom and I realized that I was approaching a man, a huge man standing at the end of the corridor. He looked rather scary, immense in size with some sort of black fabric draping his face so I could not see his features. Although his daunting appearance intimidated and no less frightened me, I kept walking because I had to get to the bathroom and back to my room. Nearing him, I lowered my head and closed my eyes, but I could feel him standing over me. I kept walking until suddenly I bumped into him; he took up almost the entire width of the hallway. I tried to shuffle past him, moving left and then right, but he mirrored my motions and would not let me pass until I looked at him. I felt the tears welling up in my eyes and losing hope, I finally flung my eyes up to his and peered into his black masked material. I was terrified but all at once, the darkness of his face faded and from it emerged features I recognized fondly. It was him. He stared down at me, his face sincere and apologetic; the tear which had formed in my eye from fear traced down my cheek but now fell from joy. I plunged myself into his warm stomach, the thread of his clothing soft and his embrace gentle but strong. I wrapped my arms around him, yearning for my little fingers to clasp at his back but having no other choice but to leave them stranded at each side of his waist. We hugged and never in my life had I felt so safe, comfortable and content as I did in those few moments when he held me. Finally, he looked down at me and I worriedly told him I had to use the bathroom. He took my hand and led me back down the long hallway towards the line of waiters in front of the restroom which had now increased from ten to about fifteen. He stepped up with authority to the front and motioned them all to back away. The line broke and scattered but stayed nearby, staring in awe as he pushed me on into the bathroom and shut the door behind me. Outside he waited protectively, staring into the spectators but seeing none of them; a faint smile painted on his face. When the bathroom door opened again, it was me and I grabbed his hand and walked on with him away from the people back to where I met him in the hallway. I hugged him again. I didn't want to let him go this time, but I knew that I had to. He picked me up in his arms and looking into his face, I asked him a question in which I was scared to know the answer.
"Will I see you again?" I asked, my voice young and sweet.
"Yes." He said, in a way so that every concern I had conjured up was consumed by his confidence and certainty. I kissed him on the cheek and he put me down. He looked on as I walked back down the hallway, a sincere look of pride in his countenance. I didn't look back at him, but I didn't need to. I knew he was there watching me.
My grandfather died almost eleven years ago. Yet, I saw him just last night. And I will see him again. I know because he told me.
:::This Story actually brought me Teary Eyed..This was very well written by one of the finest writers on this site..I could feel the emotion while I was reading this piece..I could really relate to the little girl..Very Very well Written..Penskills
