When My Hands Find Their Way

When my hands find their way to you, they are instantly home. Words cease to matter since I can feel you now. Your words are beautiful though.  When you speak, they hang thick in the air and wash over me like the fog pouring over the bridge in the crisp dark of night. They envelope…

Mothers are a Gift

I remember a time as a child when I asked my mother if I was an “oops baby”.  If I had been a surprise.  If I was the baby that so fondly found her, instead of her finding me.  I was not asking out of concern, as if there was anything wrong with it, but…

Are you openly affectionate?

There is something that intrigues me.  I am not quite sure when or why this happens, but I feel like most of us are victims of this.  We fear showing too much affection. Why is this? Why do we hold back? When did it start? Although most adults ration their affection, there is an exception…