I am scared of being by myself. Though my childhood was not a bucket of roses, there was always something going on … even when there wasn’t. I shared a room with two sisters for most of my growing up and there was no such thing as alone time.
I dated a boy for over a year-and-a-half …. My first boyfriend. I thought he was the one. He was patient and told me nice things … he cooked for me. Then one day, he saw another shiny thing walk by and my boyfriend became my first EX-boyfriend. I was distraught …. Cried for days! But, the first day that it happened, I came home from school … ran to my room and covered my face with my pillow.
Like I said … no alone time … my youngest sister, who was around three at the time, came to the doorway and watched me bury my face. Without thinking, she came over to my bedside and started to brush my hair back from my face over and over with her sweet little fingers … the way we always did to her when she was upset. “It’s otay, Telly …”
I will never forget the pain of losing my first boyfriend … or the sweet little voice that had no idea what a boyfriend was …. Calmly telling me it was okay while combing my hair from my tear-stained face.