It's like a hand rental....

So I have always been openly skeptical about psychics. 
Not that I don't believe that the possibility that there are forces, (or people who could tap into them), but more the dingy room profiting and playing on others hopes and wishes. 
Or the grand-standing and shameless cheating and manipulating of large venue money making shows like Crossing Over etc.   I think there is a special hell for those evil people.

So today I am driving by, and I think " I should get my palm read." 

I have no desire to know the future.  I couldn't care less about what anyone would have to "tell" me about the past.

However, I realized the thought behind the thought was pretty simple. 
                It's a great way to pay someone to hold hands with you without it being weird.

Then I became aware of how much I miss holding Lori's hand. I have reached for her subconsciously many times, then felt silly.         But up until that point, I never really objectively qualified the amount of time that we spent connected in that way.

It was a lot.  Like all the time.  More, I think, then what I see others do.
                I wonder if others thought we were weird?

I don't know how it started, but I am pretty sure that every single time we were together we held hands when we said grace before eating.

I would very often wake up beside Lori in the morning, and be holding hands . Often they  were almost sweaty, so I can only assume we must have been doing it for a period of time.

If she wasn't knitting, we held hands in the car. For hundreds of miles. 

She reached for my hand when we walked. On planes. In airports. In movies. In meetings.

It felt good. 

There were many nuances and messages. A slight squeeze and a subtle redirection of a finger to point out an odd person in the crowd. I knew when she liked a song or agreed with a point someone said. A warning twitch when I was putting my foot in my mouth, or being harsh.  A double tap when everyone was wading through the "where to eat" options, and she wanted help to sway the kid jury. A triple squeeze to let me know she was loving me. And yes, the dirty messages she would write with her finger, one letter at a time onto my palm, while I was supposedly paying serious attention to something else.

I'm sure this all adds into that "disconnected" feeling.

Maybe,

.... at some point the care bus comes around again. I hope it brings color back with it.

It is tiring...

It's like being on duty all the time. 
You are the only guard in this prison camp.
Villigence is the key word. Never let your guard down.

The prisoners must walk the plank.
Straight on. One in front of the other. Heel toe heel toe.
March straight on, and no one gets hurt.
And everything seems fine.
The warden and public are happy.

But drop your guard or let your attention waver one little bit,
And you"ll see just how narrow that plank is.
The thoughts, so tightly controlled, will start to wander
slipping off to the sides,
And you'll be over the edge in an instant.

One sodden failed mass.