I have been touched all my life
by Olivia Gwyn
I have been touched all my life
in so many insignificant ways
So it catches me by surprise
to be caught by surprise on a June day
while my feet are burning on the sand
It's always strange to bare your heart
to someone who's known you
since you were a child
That's why it feels almost embarrassing
to ask my Pawpaw if he want to come to the beach with me
when I know he doesn't go as much since knee surgery
I beat around the bush and say he can come if he wants to
when I really want him to know that I want him to
He's always been quiet,
even before the war
I wish he never went,
younger than me and foolish and in love
and nowhere else to go
Except halfway across the world
where people were afraid and hurting and helpless and in love, too,
and nowhere else to go
Anyway, he never talks about it
I feel kid-ish when he says he'll come
and he loads up the cart same as he's always done
since I was too young to remember
He carries the chairs and hands me
his water bottle to carry in my bag
It sweats all on my book and I don't mind
I slow my pace to match his
My feet are burning
on the cement-colored sand
when he asks me if I need him
to put sunscreen on my back
I wasn't going to ask, but I say yes,
and I get a lump in my throat
at how gently, deliberately he rubs it in
His hands are leather
and we are quiet,
the only sound the wind off the sea,
blowing my hair in my eyes, the sand on my feet
I almost cry–
how many more times?–
at what it means to be cared for
The sunscreen spread carefully
down the curve of my back
How rare, how precious to be touched
by someone who stands to gain nothing by it
We cool our feet in the water
and laugh about how bad we are at telling the tides
and he asks if I can take a selfie of us in our chairs
On the way back home
I tell him I don't know why I didn't just tell him
I wanted him to come
I guess I didn't want to make him do something he didn't want to
I guess I wanted him to want to
I guess I'm still scared of being seen wanting
But there are only so many June's when you are 25 and 76
and I will not spend them afraid of loving you
It is a privilege to love you every June we get
and I will still be loving you every June
While I am missing your hands on my back in the heat,
wrinkles lined by ripples of sunscreen,
hand over gentle hand
