When I was a little girl, I would sit next to my dad onthe couch, and he'd hold his hand up to me, parallel to the floor, palm towards the ceiling. I would tickle his palm and he'd try to catch my hand.
I knew that I was heading towards grown-up-land when I could evade his grasp. When I was faster, trickier than he was. I was proud of it, that I had grown so fast, so smart.
A few days after I returned to work, after his death, I signed up for a chair massage with Francoise. I signed up for a double session, and several minutes into the massage was finally feeling some of the tension release.
Towards the end of the massage she rubbed my hands. My palms.
And all of the memories, the emotions, came rushing back.
I wept. Kinda like I am now.
If I knew then what I know now, I would've let him catch my hand every single time.
There are wonderful things going on at my job, with my hubby and with my friends and with my pets. Bear with me -the updates will be forthcoming, I promise. It'll just take a few days to get there. -Rahree