Page 14 of In the Middle of No(ah)where
My new room is smaller than my childhood one, but it feels more comforting. Safe.
Tonight, I made a small blanket fort and have spent what feels like hours rearranging my LEGO-built aliens, staging imaginary human abductions that resolved into harmony and a happily ever after of aliens and humans living together in a complex world. A world where it's okay to be different and unique.
My fingers reach out and trace the familiar outline of my worn stuffie, Pompompurin. His once-vibrant yellow fur was now slightly faded. A wave of unadulterated joy washes over me, a stark contrast to the typical anxiety that has clung to me since graduation.
It wasn't a gradual shift. Not a slow fading of my adult self into a younger version. It was instantaneous, a complete and utter transformation. One moment, I was Noah, the recent high school graduate burdened by expectations and the uncertainties of the future. Next, I was a nine-year-old Noah, carefree and unburdened. No knots in my stomach. No anxiety. No dread of what's to come. Just a serene calm.
I sit up, cross-legged. The familiar comfort of my soft cotton pajamas envelopes me in a warm hug. Sitting inside the fort truly takes me back to my past. The boy I am, while sitting here playing, is full of innocence. If I had a mirror, I'm sure my eyes would be a brighter, more vibrant shade of blue, holding a spark of mischief and wonder absent from my adult self.
My thoughts, too, are simple and untroubled. There is no looming threat of college applications, no pressure to choose a career path, and no agonizing over my future. The world, for this moment, is a boundless playground of imagination, a place where anything is possible. The pressure of expectations has vanished.
I spend the next few hours immersing myself in the pure bliss of childhood. I pull the LEGO bucket closer and build an elaborate spaceship, ready to transport the aliens back and forth between their world and ours. I pull out an old drawing pad to sketch the imaginative creatures, then color them in shades of green and purple. In my imagination, they would sparkle in the sun like the vampires in the Twilight Saga.
I lose myself in imaginary adventures.
The sense of peace that comes with regression is profound. It's not just the absence of adult stress; it's a vibrant feeling of contentment. The regression is an active engagement with my inner child, a joyful reunion with a part of myself that had been buried under layers and layers of responsibility and anxiety.
The first time I slipped into middle space at the center wasn't a conscious decision; it felt like a natural, almost involuntary response to the overwhelming stress of graduation. It was a way of coping with emotions that I felt ill-equipped to handle. My body and mind were seeking solace, retreating to a simpler time when life felt less complicated and less demanding. The same feeling that would cause me to take a sharp object to my arm.
Yet, even within the comforting blanket fort around me, a small voice whispers at the edge of my awarenessthis can't last forever. Someday, I will need to return to the adult world to face my responsibilities.
I absent-mindedly rub the raised scars.
This is nothing more than an escape. A way to release the pressure and quiet the chaos in my brain.
The time I spend regressed feels like a gift, a chance to recharge. It's not a way for me to avoid my responsibilities but a happy retreat that allows me to gather my strength before advancing to the next stage in life.
Slowly, I feel my mind shift, and the regression begins to lighten, feeling like a slow fade. A gradual return to my adult self. The worries of the future begin to resurface, but this time, they don't feel as overwhelming.
???
"Merry Holidays, Noah," Caleb calls out as he enters Steamed. A tint of red blushed his nose and cheeks from the chill in the air outside. He shucks his coat and backpack.
"You too, Caleb. Are you off school for the holidays?" I ask him as he makes his way behind the counter to start his afternoon shift while I finish wiping down the espresso machine. I toss the rag in the sink to rinse it out.
"Yep. Today was a short day, and I have two and a half weeks off before I make the final lap around the track to graduation. The checkered flag is about to wave." He tells me with a grin.
It wasn't long ago that I had the same excitement. And dread. The past six months have really helped me learn to stand on my own two feet and discover who I am.
"Would you want to hang out after work this afternoon?" I ask since we're both off at four. "I thought about window shopping and possibly picking up a couple of Christmas gifts for my parents and Carlos."
Just after I say it, my heart sinks. This will be the first Christmas since my parents' separation. Mom has cleared outthe entire upstairs of the house, and it no longer feels like home. She said she wants to get it on the market to sell in January.
"Um, yeah. That would be fun. Let me text the family I'm staying with, but I'm sure they won't care. One less mouth to feed if I miss super." He tells me with an eye roll, and something inside my chest pinches.
Caleb has been staying with foster families, and I hate that for him. He told me that he gets passed around quite a bit, but the current family seems to be alright. He doesn't like to talk about it much.
"We can swing by Mickey D's afterward. They have a two-for-one special right now. My treat." I tell him, and he smiles before he nods and takes his stuff to the break room.
The rest of our shift goes smoothly. It got a little busier in the afternoon with the holiday shoppers, but I won't complain since my share of the tips is almost enough for a new game or LEGO set.
Driving toward the mall, I pull into a strip mall filled with unique shops and a more mom-and-pop feel. We pass Spine, the used bookstore, and Caleb stops in front of the window display at Woody's, the only standalone toy store in town. Caleb is mesmerized by the large animal display, which depicts a zoo with every animal imaginable. They are a mix of large stuffed animals, miniature figurines, and bath toys. The big box stores have toy departments, but this one is filled with nothing but toys for all ages.
I grab Caleb's hand and pull him into the store.
"Thanks for coming with me today," I tell Caleb as we make our way down an aisle filled with baby dolls. It makes me think of Kai and Shaun playing and laughing at the center months ago.
"Thanks for inviting me. It's nice to hang out more. I'll be glad to graduate soon, and then, hopefully, we can hang out all the time since I won't have a curfew and won't have toask permission." He tells me but doesn't take his eyes off the displays.
