Reminiscing: Betty Carmichael

The massage was a good one! I was wanting it to last. But all good things come to an end. (Old cliché’). I distinctly remember the clicking sound of his fingers. His hands so very strong and the pressure from them gave me a most relaxing feeling. The strength and movement caused a pressure on my body but yet was gentle, comforting. His touch was always gentle – no matter where he had touched me.

Another time in the same predicament a massage lead “another” and myself to be dishonest and him untrustworthy to his own wife. She being close to me left a dull and frightening emotion. Why this particular circumstance had to happen to me is hard to accept. It degraded me something terrible. The circumstance has happened more than once!

When it comes to the time for me to be able to be comfortable with the moment – my whole being looks back in fright and sadness. And there was another who said, “I like massages because I do. “Do you like them”?

“Yes” was my reply, but (thinking back) I felt stunned. “That is a different word”, he said. “Yes” was my reply. Frightened, “It means self-conscious or shy”, I commented.

Leaving the moment at that.