I miss touch. I am a touchy person. We are a touchy family. Jim and I were a touchy couple. It was rare for us to be in the same room and not touching in some way. If he was working at his desk, I would ruffle his hair or rub his shoulders. If we were watching a movie, one of us would sit on the dreaded couch seam to be close. It’s hard to get a meal on when someone is grabbing you to dance in the kitchen. At the end of the day, he would read the paper or a book, and rub my feet. And when I was sick, he would just put his hand on my head, because he knew that was all he could really do. I miss touch.
Last night I got a last-minute invite to go to the Sarah McLachlan concert in Spokane. What a treat! We went out to eat, and on the walk between the restaurant and the Fox theatre, it became quickly obvious that I was not going to keep my dinner. Quick stop in a Pita Pit restaurant and we trudged on. Determined not to ruin my friend’s experience, I thought something did not agree with me, and since I got rid of it, I would be fine. Well, I spent most of the concert trying to find windows of time when the ladies room was not standing room only….fortunately they piped the music in. I did not see much of the concert, but I heard all of it. Puking is bad enough, puking multiple times in a public place is its own kind of hell.
I miss touch. Fortunately, I have a job where they have given me a license to touch. Mostly, I touch kids, and they touch me… sometimes it is more of a mauling, on both parts, but I am lucky in this. Fortunately I am a girl, and our society is accepting of piles of girls hanging on a couch during a party, or dancing the slow ones together. Last night, on the long walk back from the theatre, I could not even keep up with the pregnant woman. My friend grabbed my arm, swept me along, and then let me lie down with my head on a pillow in his lap for the 2 hour drive home. I slept, and woke up at one point to feel his hand on my head. I miss touch, but this is enough.