The Moments We Never Forget

Since I'm feeling loving today, how about a positive story?  It's still about love (have I worn you out yet?), but it's an example of the pure love and care I've been lucky to experience in my life.

If you know me, you know that I'm not really a morning person...nor am I a night owl...I'm more of an 'all-hours' gal.  Meaning, I rarely sleep.  Fact is, I'm writing this at 6am, and I haven't been to bed yet.  I'm not an insomniac because it's not as though I try to sleep and can't--I just don't sleep.  I always feel as though there are things I could be doing.  I've been better about it since returning back home (except for this morning, apparently), but throughout college everyone knew me as someone they could count on to be awake, no matter the time.  One of my closest friends (who later became my roommate) used to joke with me, because she would wake up at 6:45 for her 8am class and see me heading back to my room to think about grabbing some sleep.  She'd tell me "good night," as I would tell her "good morning."  And yeah, I had a class at 9am--and usually made it.  (Usually...)

Onto the story!

****

One night my first year of college, I was in a terrible, horrible mood.  I'd had a shitty day, and all I wanted to do was sleep.  Uncharacteristically, I decided to go to bed around 10pm.  I crawled into bed and shut my eyes, hoping sleep would come to me and take me away from the shit day I'd had.

Knock knock.

I refused to open my eyes, hoping I could fake sleep and whoever it was would go away and not bug me.

"Come in!" called my roommate, Mon.

"Hey!" Her best dorm friend and one of my closest friends Peter stuck his head in.  "Mon, I was--" he cut off abruptly, as I can only assume he saw me.  "Is Ashley sleeping??" He asked in a low voice.

"Yeah, she is."

"But it's so early!  Why??"

"She had a really bad day, I believe," Mon said.

"Oh no," I heard Peter say.

The sound of the door shutting, and I assumed Mon had walked outside with Peter to talk.

Suddenly, I felt my sheets being tugged.  Still faking sleep, I heard Peter murmur, "You poor girl," as he tugged my sheets and comforter up higher around my neck.  He tucked me in, leaned over and kissed my cheek softly.  "Sorry about your bad day, love.  I love you," he whispered.

"Peter, you know she can't hear you," Mon said.

"I know."

****

It's a weird story for me to tell, since things are very different now.  I am no longer friends with Peter; we did not last through the first year of college.  But that moment still remains one of my fondest memories.  I don't think I've ever experienced someone showing me such care and love, without the expectation of immediate gratification or reward.  He entirely reversed the crap day I was having in mere seconds.

I feel very lucky to have been able to experience a moment like this.  Maybe he didn't realize just how powerful and meaningful it was--perhaps he just did it to do it, or he felt like a father taking care of a hurt daughter, or something like that.  Whatever the reason, I knew, for those few brief moments, that someone else in the world cared about me.  That someone else in the world thought I mattered.  That a person thought I was Someone, that someone really, truly and honestly loved me.