mother's night before

It was the tiny tiny view that i had from my passive position on the bed. I lay face down, begging a back massage, - not even that, just a light stroking. I ached for some gentleness. He lay alongside me, stroking, but then gradually pressing himself against my leg. It didn't move me. My head was turned to the right, my hair fell over most of my face, my arms were bent and pulled close to me so that my fist was near my head, but i had this tiny window, from one eye, in which i could see his mouth kissing my hand.

Before that, the idea of kissing or closeness could not overcome my stone wall; so alone was I in my misery of the week just gone, some old isolation triggered again. I don't want anything, i thought. Leave me alone. Then i saw his kissing mouth, and it was like a little stream passing by; a view from a hillside; a toe feeling a trickle of water. It cooled me, it warmed me; it carried life. One thing led to another, as they say. The current carried me, and i was back again, giving in, and opening up some far away cold, hard, and closed part of my self. *********** Afterwards, i told him the story of how, many years ago, i had seen my sister breastfeeding her infant, our younger sister included in the embrace, lying on the bed with mother and babe, her eight-year-old arm across both of them – how shocked and shamed i had felt, knowing that such an intimacy and sweetness would never have occurred to me, and that even if it had, i would have branded it as wrong, and not allowed it. I wept to remember that beautiful, simple closeness, and the depth of my embarrassment at being so unable to create such a moment. I always felt that something was wrong with me, but i had never seen such a startling example of how removed i was. How did i become so alienated from real life? ********** After he left, i dreamt i was on trial, trying to explain to the judge why the new evidence had not been entered before; how it had been buried in boxes that were in my father's basement; how the boxes had been a 'mess'. The new evidence included something that proved how a person's vision was altered by some device, how it was impossible to see properly because of this alteration, and how difficult it was to pry open the device. And a man, a former colleague, also previously caught in the distorted reality, now kisses me openly, now that the truth is revealed. ******** So began mother's day for me, in the wee hours.