Growing Needs

The other day, I was riding in the backseat of my aunt's car, my cousin beside me. He's 10 years old and boisterous. And as boisterous 10-year-olds tend to become after hours of chasing after equally energetic cousins, he also happened to be very sleepy.

He put his head on my shoulder and slept. I've never been a fulltime Kuya to anyone and having a little person feel comfortable enough to fall asleep on me gave me an oddly warm feeling, like I was deemed big enough and trustworthy enough to be protector and pillow all at once.

My cousin stirred a couple of minutes into his nap, trying to find the best spot on my shoulder to drool on. He also found my wrist, and held onto it tightly. Every fifteen minutes or so, his grip would slacken, and blood would rush into my grateful hand. And then he'd stir and reclaim it. It was a gesture sweet and sincere and unguarded - something which springs from nowhere else but a child's needs.

I can't remember the last time I held onto someone just because I needed to feel safe. It's not because I never feel unsafe. It's mostly because I've grown up.

When you're a kid, expressing your needs is expected - good, even. You tell your parents when you need to be fed, when you need to take a leak, when you need a hug, or a wrist to hold onto. You feel a need, you respond to it. As you get older though, you learn to negotiate with yourself, judging which needs have to be attended to right away, and which can be put off for a while.

I think a lot of us put off the need to feel safe and secure. And only time can really tell how much it's been costing us.