Change My Life
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Embracing life, love, and the pursuit of happiness
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The Awakening

July 15, 1995


The water was perfectly natural. The thing about it that was different was the baby. He could not imagine any immediate danger. For sure, the baby could stand and walk, and was old enough to get back up after a fall, and even hold it's head above the water -- only seven inches, at least that was the normal depth. But he knew that babies drown every year, and some of them in very little water. "It's diligence," he thought, "adult diligence, that keeps kids safe these days." Without that, a kid could drown right in your own living room. He said so, and whoever it was there with him disagreed.

"Look at her -- the kid's perfectly safe! In the first place, she sits up quite well; she's not going to suddenly just fall over! And it would be different if it was a swimming pool, the depth and all, but here in your own living room..."

He sat down, crossing his leg over the other knee. Had to get that itch. The shoe came right off, but the wet sock was another matter. It hung on like a rubber glove. He tried scratching through it and felt nothing, which wasn't very pleasing but seemed like a momentary improvement over the itch.

He pulled at his sock again. This time he stood well back, and leaning forward, gripped the top of the sock in both hands, giving a mighty yank. As the sock cleared the foot, his body relaxed unexpectedly backward, slipping into the water.

He was floating on the surface, and it was inexplicably relaxing. He let go of sock and itch, stretching his arms out on either side of his body. It was incredibly comfortable, bobbing here on the surface with the wind flapping at his left foot, the one that had been itching. Fwap, fwap. Actually, it seemed more like a low speed vibration; but it was deliriously relieving. Fwap, fwap, fwap.

The wind seemed to be increasing, though; it was waving his leg about like the tail of a windmill in a summer storm. He withdrew it, dropping his heel right into the lagoon. At that moment he began to feel the other leg going, but it really didn't matter. The rhythmic pulsations were working well into his psyche. Fwap, fwap, fwap. He floated in a beautiful shallow channel lined with bright blue-green grass. Fwap, fwap. The sky was brilliant, the soft sunshine nurturing.

The pulsations encompassed his whole body. He felt enriched, loved. He loved with an intensity he had never felt before. He stood up, took the slender brown hand in his and drew her to him.

"I do," he said, "a thousand times I do!"

Her ebony face shone with a brilliance he had not dreamed of. She kissed him gently on the cheek; his heart leaped from the afternoon shade into brilliant sunshine, a butterfly in flight.

Fwap, fwap. He opened his eyes and was greeted by her loving smile.

"Relax; I'll wake you slowly," she said softly.

She continued with his hands, in turn, gently driving the soreness of inactivity out of knuckles and joints, worked all the way up his arms, and then returned to his feet and legs, now able to massage more vigorously. Fwap, fwap, fwap.

He floated in a sea of rose petals, sweet and fresh; and ever so often he would open one eye to get a glimpse of this bronze beauty before she could withdraw.

Rhythmically, her strong but gentle hands worked love and compassion into his shoulders, his back, his rib cage. Fully awake now, he became aware that she was sitting on the bed so close to him that she was pinning him under the bedcovers. He could feel the muscles rippling in her torso as she massaged his thirsty frame. Waves of endorphins spread through his body, bringing love and desire. He knew that he loved this woman with a depth and a passion he had not previously known; and he was grateful, so grateful to have found her. Thus, steeped in emotion, he lay there absorbing every millirem of love her fingers could deliver, until she was finished.

He opened his eyes again.

"Are you ready for breakfast?" she asked, her face ablaze in a characteristically broad and loving smile; "It's ready."

July 15, 1995



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