I miss getting my back scratched and rubbed.
Margret would come up behind me while I was sitting at the computer, or at the table reading, and scratch my back without being asked to do so. She had a great sense of where I liked having my back scratched, so the requests "Up a little," "Over to the left a bit," were fairly minimal.
Sometimes when I was tired and achy, I would say, "Margret, would you rub my shoulders please?" and she would come over and do it. She usually started rubbing with just one hand, and that was pretty good. I'd ask her to use both hands, and she'd usually oblige me. I could request that she concentrate on my neck, or work her way down my back, and she did. For someone who wasn't formally trained, and not working professionally as a masseuse, she was very good.
I showed all my daughters how to rub backs to my taste when they were little, and I was working as an upholsterer who got aches in my back and shoulders rather often. C still twits me about paying them a quarter to rub my back.
The backrubs were not a one way street. I rubbed her back too. I rubbed her back to comfort her when she was unhappy. I rubbed her back when she was sick, because it seemed to make her feel better. Sometimes when I was hugging her, I would add a little massage up and down next to her spine, and she liked that. She didn't ask for a back rub very often, mostly I volunteered to do it, or put my hand on her shoulder and started a massage. If she turned so I had easier access, I continued, with both hands.
The last few days before she went to the hospital for the last time she asked me to rub her back. She said her lower back hurt, and that the rubbing helped.
No comments:
Post a Comment