The Feeling of Feeling

My head was resting comfortably in his lap when his hand moved quietly from its resting spot just above the curve of my hip to the side of my head, where he gently tucked my hair behind my ear. It was such a subtle move, but it gave me chills. His hand lingered there, and I could feel his fingertips stroking my hair with curiosity. They found their way to my ear and began tracing a soft path down the outside of my cheek and around my chin. His thumb rose to find my lips, the ridges of his fingerprint sent chills down my spine and I didn’t know how to respond.  I closed my eyes.  I didn’t know if anyone had ever touched me like that, and if they had, it had been too far in the past for me to remember. I kept my eyes closed and turned my chin up towards his hand, a cat-like reflex that should have been accompanied with the sound of purring.  I turned my face and leaned into his palm without thought. He cupped my cheek and continued to trace the outlines of my face, my nose, and then my eyes. He grazed his fingertips across my lashes and I wanted to cry. I could feel it rising up inside of me, the uncertainty of the moment overwhelming me with a sadness that felt too deeply hidden for me to understand where it had come from. The moment felt so intimate, but I had never experienced that before. Not with my husband at least.  Not before our marriage had collapsed in on itself, nor even before we were married, when I was still under the illusion that I was actually happy.  He had never touched me like that. But this person, gently caressing my face and making me feel like a fragile butterfly, was a mere stranger. And it made me so sad, feeling safe like that with someone I wasn't even sure if I could trust yet. And it made me feel ashamed of myself.  For having the feeling of actually feeling. 

Afraid of the tears threatening to spill, I moved his hand away from where it grazed, and propped myself up on my elbows so that I was face to face with him. I stared into his crystal blue eyes and leaned in for a kiss. I had already decided long ago that I would never let anyone break my heart again, and I wasn’t going to let him change my mind. But I needed to remember what it felt like to kiss someone who actually wanted to kiss me back. 

So I did.