I slipped off my robe and stepped into the warm water of the hot tub. Curling into the corner, I drew my knees to my chest and wrapped my arms around them.
Emotion rose through me like a slow, inevitable wave. A warm tear slid down my cheek as a quiet whimper escaped—straight from my heart.
I miss being touched, I thought, as another small sound broke from my body.
Touch had always been one of the ways I received love, and it had been far too long since I’d felt a loving hand on my skin. Sitting there, holding myself tightly, I suddenly realized—I had two loving hands of my own.
I ran my fingers through my hair and felt a soft awareness settle in: I could offer myself the tenderness I longed for. How would I want to be touched?
My energy softened as my fingers traced through my hair. I crossed my arms over my chest, holding my shoulders firmly yet gently. Tilting my head, I rested it in the palm, still cupping my shoulder. I brought my full awareness into the simple contact—my palms against my skin, my cheek against my hand. A deep, spontaneous breath left my body, and I felt tension dissolve.
Lifting my head, I opened my eyes and met the moon. I stayed there, silent, feeling the warmth of my own embrace. And in that stillness, the truth settled over me: it had been a very long time since touch had felt loving. My body had known it long before my mind did.
It had been a long time since his touch had felt like love. And it took my own loving hands to finally understand that. He told me he loved me, but in that moment I couldn’t deny the truth rising from my body—it simply didn’t feel like love anymore.
I smiled softly, struck by how beautiful spirit can be. If spirit had tried to tell me this, I might never have listened. I needed to feel it—through my body, my heart, my soul.
Memories drifted through my mind—times when he truly loved me, when his touch had honestly felt like love. And with them came the quiet knowing that the last year had felt nothing like that. Somewhere along the way, things had shifted, and I kept believing the tenderness would return. I even convinced myself his touch still felt like love.
I stood and stepped out of the hot tub. Wrapping a towel around my wet, naked body, I felt the gentleness in the simple act, and it felt like love. As I pressed the towel against my skin, drying under the moonlight, it felt like love.
And in that moment I knew: the next person who touches me… it will need to feel like this.