By Anna Lupardo
I want to come over.
I walk inside without knocking
and find you
in one of your usual spots.
I run my hands
across the fabric of your hoodie,
sit in your lap,
and soak you in.
I want to know how your day was.
You tell me
your day was fine.
Then you hold me, squeeze me.
And only after you’ve absorbed
enough of me,
you finally tell me
how your day actually was.
But based on how long
and how tight you hold me,
I already have a pretty good idea.
I want to listen.
I run my fingers through the buzz of your hair
as you search for the words.
I let you take your time.
Not just because I care,
but because I know you’ve never had to explain
the parts of yourself you keep hidden.
You never felt you had the liberty to explain
until me.
I want to hold you.
I hold you when you are filled with joy,
and when shame creeps its way in.
I may not always understand,
but I will always try
to carry the burdens
that plague you.
You tell me to come over.
I walk inside
without a knock
and this time,
you come to me.
You run your hands
across the fabric of my hoodie,
hold me in your arms,
and soak me in.
You want to know how my day was.
I tell you that my day was fine.
Then you hold me, squeeze me.
And only after I absorb
enough of you,
I finally tell you
how my day actually was.
But based on how long
and how tight I hold you
you already have a pretty good idea.
You want to listen.
You run your hands across my back
as I search for my words.
You let me take my time.
Not just because you care
but because you know what I am about to explain
is something I’ve never had to explain.
But with you
I always have the liberty
to explain.
You want to hold me.
You hold me when I am filled with joy
and when grief creeps its way in.
You may not always understand
But you will always try
to carry the burdens
that plague me.
I want you to know:
There will always be
space for you with me.
I know
to say “always”
comes with great strength.
But I can say “always”
because I knew long before you
how to hold space
for the people I love.
But you
you were the first man to show me
my partner
could hold a space
for me.
Anna Lupardo (she/her) ‘26 is a junior human development and family science double major with psychology and a writing minor. She has always enjoyed writing but during her Junior year of High School, it was her English professor and her junior year thesis that made her realize that she wanted to study Psychology. She never could’ve imagined having the opportunity to publish during her college career, but she has grown to love sharing her stories and she continues to uncover what she loves through the power of writing.
