I listen for her breathing, watch as her breasts rise and fall, while my own breath feels non-existent, as if I am in a crystal bubble, unmoved by time, I could be watching from the stars above, peering down at an angel below. And the tiny star within me flickers and grows. I can’t but help it as a smile opens my lips. ‘Would you like the other foot done?’ ‘Mmm hmm, yes please.’ ‘I told you this would be relaxing.’ I’m grinning ear to ear. ‘It’s great, keep going.’ I gently pat her foot and reach for the other, trying to remember how I had started. Yes, beneath the toes first. I get lost in the circles, the feeling of skin on skin, the incredible joy of touching another human being, a living, sentient, intelligent, curious, wonderful being like me. How many steps had she taken in these feet, where had they taken her? How many times had they carried her in a playful sprint, spun her about in a joyful dance? How many steps had they taken as she plodded to work, depressed, and how did. He loved his mama a lot. “Mmmmmm, that’s better isn’t it dear?” she finally said as his head seemed to anchor itself on the corner of her body. He nodded and she smiled at him. Her pajamas, as soft and silky and clingy as they were felt wonderful to him as his head rested on the corner of her chest. “I’m so glad you feel a little better dear.” “I love you mom,” he said, “mmmmmm, this feels nice.” She looked at him, her grown up boy, and she smiled once she did. Her grown up boy was 18 now. He looked all grown up too she told herself as the two huddled close together. She pulled him against her just a little more and asked him if he felt comfortable now. He smiled, humbly, and said yes. All of a sudden, out of nowhere, he noticed something. He saw these two substantially noticeable peaks rising up off of her chest. They appeared so well defined he thought. That pajama top appeared to lay differently on her body. It was almost too clingy he told himself as it fell down inside of her.
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