Tell The Wolves I'm Home

by Carol Rifka Brunt

You could try to believe what you wanted, but it never worked. Your brain and your heart decided what you were going to believe and that was that. Whether you liked it or not.

stared out the car window and understood that I was in a place where nobody knew my heart even a little

I’m okay with one or two people, but more than that and I turn into a naked mole rat. That’s what being shy feels like. Like my skin is too thin, the light too bright. Like the best place I could possibly be is in a tunnel far under the cool, dark earth.

guess they were like water. Soft and harmless until enough time went by. Then all of a sudden you found yourself with the Grand Canyon on your hands.

Because that’s how I’ve always been. I only need one good friend to see me through. Most people aren’t like that. Most people are always looking out for more people to know.

What was scary about this was that I knew it would be perfect—completely, totally perfect. What if nobody ever knew me like that again? What if I went through my whole life getting mediocre gifts—bath sets and boxes of chocolate and bed socks—and never ever found someone who knew me the way Finn did?

after a while it almost stopped feeling bad and turned into something else. It started to feel like relief.

“You get into habits. Ways of being with certain people.”

We both liked that. Seeing someone from up above without them knowing you could see them. We both understood that you could sometimes get a glimpse of who a person really was when you saw them like that.

Those little touches were everything. I lived for them.

You can build a whole world around the tiniest of touches. Did you know that? Can you imagine?”