The Memory of Touch

While waiting for my son to complete his homework (took 2 1/2 hours last night...) I started watching "Hope Floats", taped the previous evening.

It's what my son calls a "mom film", one where mom gets to relate to what's going on, have a cry now and then, and enjoy a story line that passes way over the head of her son.

I haven't finished watching it yet, but a little way into the film something struck me - hard.

I can't remember what it is like to be touched lovingly and adored anymore. Told I'm beautiful. I can't remember what it's like to dance in the arms of someone who simply loves me for who I am - and isn't after anything, or leading me on, or using me.

And as happily single as I am, it's kinda sad, you know?