Embrace

I attended a two day continuing education conference this weekend.  I was exhausted after overnight shifts and emotionally vulnerable after a couple weeks of stresses and news, but I was still looking forward to attending a class we've been requesting for years: self-defense in the back of the rig.

We sat through an hour of lecture before moving into the hands-on portion.  We went through some tactics to pin a combative, non-compliant patient to the cot - moves so simple, I can't believe I ever had to wrench my neck last year restraining a patient because I hadn't been taught.  I specifically asked my instructor to show me a better way to pin down a patient's legs, so that I could avoid having claw marks in my thighs like I did a few years ago.

Next he asked us to pair with anyone of a relatively equal height.  I turned to the person behind me, conveniently only about two inches taller: Thomas, an admittedly newer paramedic from the far north of the state, probably about a decade my junior, looking both awkward and thrilled at the prospect of putting his arms around this lady.

As led by our instructor, Thomas put me in a sleeper hold.  Thomas was a big guy, just as I prefer them, and he got me in a pretty good hold.  I got my hands up around his forearms as instructed.  I pulled down to keep my airway open and twisted toward his hand side first, learning, as our instructor meant us to, that this would only get me into a headlock instead.

We returned to the original hold, but when our instructor led us to turn into and under the elbow, I couldn't make myself move.  I was being held tight against a man.  For just a moment, I felt the warmth, the closeness.  The safety, and the comfort.  For just a second, I closed my eyes and let him hold me.  I didn't want to get away, and I didn't want him to let me go.  I wanted to say, "Just please, hold on tight."

After what felt like forever and yet not nearly long enough, I ducked, twisted, and turned under his arm to tackle him in return.  Pinned against each other and waiting for the next instruction, it was all I could do not to burst into tears.

I haven't been embraced by a man who loves me in seven years.  Now that I really think about it, I don't even remember my husband ever doing so, which means it's likely been a lot longer - so long I don't care to count.  So long that it felt good to be held in a position meant to render me unconscious.

I'm sitting at home alone tonight, drinking a beer by myself since everyone after our meeting had a family or a someone to head home to.  It's a delicious imported English dark ale, and I only wish it was tamping down the bitterness that has begun to overpower even the deep sadness these days.

If you have the gift of a person who wanted you to come home tonight, please savor that embrace for me.