Shadow (dariaphoebe) wrote,

"I suppose you want to be the little spoon," she said, and I meekly assented. We'd reached the first hour of the new day while I was walking. My trudge had been cold, colder than the gloves I was wearing were ready for, and the world was cold and empty. I'd reached a critical juncture, one where to save distance I considered a more remote, less-well-lit trail, before considerations of personal safety tickled my brain. It was fortuitous, as upon turning back to the sidewalk she was waiting behind me to complete the 2 mile walk that had separated us when I set out.

The day seemed destined to end as it had started: quiet and solitary, a fact drawn out by the chirping of crickets that punctuated the air as I prepared to climb the stairs and bed down. A question from her, though, about a bottle of beer I'd left with her for another day tripped through my wires, and after a brief discussion I slipped my outerwear back on and stepped out the door.

I did not always appreciate the value of touch, despite the longstanding recognition of my tactile nature. The laptop which has rested on the other half of the bed with me for weeks now is warm, to be sure, but not in a way which provides emotional fulfillment. Not even the cute but sometimes-hyper fur-balls are around to rest at my feet and occasionally atop me.

Yet I can say that despite the relative paucity of opportunity for the human contact that helps keep me grounded in my humanity, when the moments present themselves as this one had, they serve as a reminder to their value, to not simply deadening oneself emotionally as I tried at a younger age. I may be vulnerable, but I am not weak.
Tags: relationships, transition

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