I have hesitated to write about this lost aspect of my life, but a picture of Janell - the one from which the drawing that hangs in the Wildwood Elementary School library was made - evoked such a such a tactile response. There is something about the flaming red hair, the vibrant smile, the absolute radiant gleam of her eyes, and that look - that look that always melted me and drew me to her.
I look at that picture and I can feel the touch of her skin, smell the scent of her cologne, the warmth of her hugs, and the passion of her kiss. Until I saw that picture, I had shut off an entire section of my memory - the physical memory. As that picture brought the aspects of touch back into focus, I felt additional pain heaped on the the multiple layers that are already there. Although most people knew her as a loving mother, a caring sibling/aunt/cousin/friend, and the consummate professional, I knew her as a sensuous woman. And I say no more - those memories are mine and mine alone. Those reflections bring me great joy and immense pain.
And I shut down again, burying, denying, and living in the past, a past with a scrapbook of rich memories and no new pages to fill.
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