Hand in Hand

A sound from the hallway roused me from my sleep a few minutes before the alarm was set to go off.  I rolled over and snuggled behind the handsome man sleeping next to me and rested my hand lightly on his side.  I was hoping I wouldn't wake him up but I couldn't resist a few moments of contact before starting one of my typically hectic days.  He stirred, briefly covering my hand in his, and fell back to sleep.  For fifteen cozy minutes I was at peace.

I don't take these moments for granted; far too many of my mornings are spent with a sweet warm cup of coffee instead of my man.  But I always know when the next time I'm with him will be.  Four years ago I was waking up every morning alone.  The worst part about it was not knowing when the next time I would have human contact would be.  Any kind.  A kiss, hug, even a handshake at that point.  I was feeling affection deprived.

That's when I came across the Chinese chair massage therapists in the mall.  A dollar a minute.  My back was very sore, I could definitely justify a 20 minute massage.  The therapists did not really speak English but the person working on me had a very nice presence.  He was very tall, great leverage for massaging, and he was not afraid to put the pressure on.  He intuitively knew my problem spots and quickly dispatched them.  He worked on my glutes and thighs too.  But then he took my arm and bent it around my back to position the muscles correctly. To keep my arm that way he lightly pressed the palm of his hand to mine.  Some people may have been unnerved by someone massaging their butt and thighs in public, but it was that light touch of our palms that almost made me cry.