small words

Yesterday someone asked me, "What's the nicest thing anyone's ever said to you?"

I was surprised by the first memory to surface. It wasn't even a compliment, really. It had nothing to do with my intelligence or talent or anything I had done to merit praise.

"You feel like you were made to be held."

Instead, it had everything to do with love, and belonging, and all the things I didn't know how badly I needed until then.

I hesitated to even write about this, mostly because I knew I couldn't convey the overwhelming "rightness" of that moment. Typed out on a screen, words lose their fresh sincerity and gain the aspect of a script. Still, I wanted to prove a point, no matter how overly sentimental it sounds.

At the end of my life, I feel that the "big things" will shrink into the recesses of my fading memory. The dreams and the achievements, the comebacks and triumphs, none will keep me warm in that grey twilight. My last thoughts will be of small words, whispered by people who loved me.