Touch Me, Please!

 

I grew up as an only child, and we were not a touchy-feely family.  My mother rarely hugged me.  Dad was more affectionate, but not necessarily physically affectionate.  Dad used words and gave freely of his time.  He showered me with both praise and attention.  Long conversations and time spent asking about my day, and caring what I had to say, was how my dad showed his love.  I don’t remember ever seeing my parents hug, or kiss, or hold hands.  It just wasn’t part of my family’s repertoire.  When I met T, he wasn’t much of a hugger, either.  We didn’t hold hands a lot, and we certainly weren’t that couple that made people around them uncomfortable with public displays of affection.  The lack of physical affection didn’t bother me.  In fact, it didn’t even cross my mind.

Imagine My Surprise

I’ve been silent for a while in the blogging world.  I’ve missed writing, but I’ve been afraid.  I was a little freaked out.  A couple of weeks ago, I took a sick day.  I wasn’t feeling well, was exhausted, and I knew that the rest of my week was going to be full of long days.  Sure, I could have made it through the day, but I was running on empty.  My tank was sucking fumes.  The  morning I stayed home sick, I took things slowly.  Eventually, I ended up on my patio with my iPad and a cup of coffee.  I was going to write.  When I logged into my blog, I was shocked.  Someone from my office had logged on earlier that morning, but I was NOT in the office.  I immediately changed my password and set the blog to private.