The Tickle
She would touch my neck in a gentle way every time we stood close to each other, almost every time we were together
& when she did, I’d give a little shiver and pull away.
In my mind I would tell her to STOP, but my words would always say that tickles.
I don’t know why she did it.
Was this a gesture she offered to everyone ? or was it special to me ?
& to be honest, at the time, it drove me nuts.
One of those DON’T s that I sure do wish I could have back.
After she died, I knew she continued because of that very feeling, that tickle.
Every once in a while, there she was with her soft brush upon my neck
& I’d smile Hi Ma.
I love you too.
Oh, how I miss that little lady.
One would think that after fifteen years
FIFTEEN. YEARS.
But, no.
That hole in my heart will forever be.
She came by to see me yesterday
tickle tickle
& I had a dream about her last night.
She left me with a repeated phrase, as of yet, I cannot remember, but the feeling of warmth, the keep doing, the everything will be ok …
Yeah.
I got that, Mom.
I know you are there
& I know you still care and listen and help and advise
& just because I can’t physically see you means nothing.
That hole in my heart will be filled with beautiful infinity the minute we are reunited.
Thanks Mom.
For the visit, the reminder, but most of all, for the tickle.
♥