Touch

I’ve been a little lost in the oblivion. Found myself today in a small caterpillar climbing up an invisible string. The way she climbed, on and on, the earth below moving away millimeter by millimeter. And the wind too, spinning her suddenly around. I think she would be fine if she fell, light as she is. I watched her for an hour or so, sang to her, oohed at her, and commended her when she made it above my head.

I think this is the slow life I was craving.

The touch of sun on my face changes everything.

In that darkness, I found pain, rage, nausea, blood, phlegm, metal on metal, resentment, betrayal, and the soft, frequent touch of those who hold me.

His hand left mine as we squeezed one another’s thumbs one last time, a message of infinite camaraderie and care, as he left the room. Moments later, the soft caress on my back and then the gentle nuzzle in of my partner. The morning spooning of small warm children beneath the covers, and nighttime wiggly bodies enveloped in my body’s rapture. The way I ruffle her hair on the top of her head like a dog, when she looks and acts happy as a dog. The way he pauses me, over and over again, for shoulder rubs, hugs, a caress, or just to gaze at me. Her heart on mine, tapping, and then hers and then hers and the next and the next…

And my own skin on skin too. Gentle hands that caress sore neck and shoulder, that soothe and soften tough feet.

And the damn dog too, who muddies the house up, who I always seem to forgive during those lazy sunny morning cuddles in bed where she shows me her soft belly, paws high in the air.

And the touch too of sound in my ears, looping down and into my vagus nerve, soothing my body. The surprising and silly sounds of my kids playing, the way his words feel whispered in my ear, and my own voice echoing through the amp as I sing.

And my tongue too, bumpy strawberry skin bursting into sweetness, the gentle crunch between my teeth, and a longing for more. The chills of pleasure that float down my spine as the chocolate ice cream melts down my tongue.

And I like it here today. Life feels palatable and potable. The last few weeks had me wretching and dry heaving, but here I am to watch a small caterpillar climbing an invisible string to the sky.