Reunion

I find myself about to face the tears of my childhood,
wondering what will happen when I find
these nightmares staring into me again.
I do not hate them.
I am afraid, more than anything, but I'm not sure why.
What could they do?
Try to snap me again in the jaws of shame,
clasp me to the burning but believable half-truths
that I once swallowed bitterly and humbly?
No. I am protected from that. I am preserved.
I am prepared for these and I have armed myself against them.
No, these would not tear me from within,
bring the itching and bleeding and saltless tears
of helplessness and childhood lament.
The worst they could do is love me back.

II

It was strange and slow.
It was good to hold them, to feel them again.
I missed that. Did I know?
Sad, how we've both changed, but theirs seems to be more tragic.
I remember them differently.
Did I expect time to stop for us because we stopped for each other?
I am older too. I hadn't noticed.
Between my ears feels smaller, but not uncomfortable.
I only know that it doesn't hurt. At least, I don't think it hurts.
I'm not sure how it's sitting with me. I'm confused.
Dizzy. Swirling, but not sick.
Just new and odd and ponderous, something I tried once,
but don't remember the flavor, perhaps.
I didn't know then what to feel.
But I hugged them goodbye, held on for the sake of remembering.
If I see them tomorrow, they may be another seven years ahead of me.