Singing the "Do I Have to Move On" Blues

I can remember feeling sad this time every year as a child when I realized that the school year was almost over and I would have to leave the teacher I had grown to love and think of as the best I would ever have. I still find this reluctance to leave something that is known and try something new.

I can name every one of my Deep South elementary school teachers: Ruby White (1), Edith Alexander (2), Sammy Bell (3) – a woman who was a staunch Nazarene, Myra Jean Porter (4), Evelyn Swann (5), and Judy Willard (6). With the exception of third grade, I never wanted to matriculate. I loved the routine, I idolized the teacher, I was so comfortable and happy with status quo. Inevitably, after just a few weeks in the next grade, I had a new favorite, but the late spring blues were a constant.

I recently found this happening all over again as I had my last massage with the best massage therapist in the world. We had become good friends and she wisely recognized that it’s difficult to maintain a therapeutic relationship in addition to a friendship. So for two months I have gone without a massage and my body has been reminding me that I really benefit from this form of therapy.

In 15 minutes my new massage therapist arrives at my house, no less, for our first session. She works as an EMT at a fire station in Virginia. She is just coming off a 24-hour shift and I can’t imagine why she would want to schedule such strenuous work in her R&R time, but I haven’t yet met her.

I hope I will be able to look for the new things that Lori brings to this healing form of therapy and not dwell on why this isn’t a carbon copy of my previous massage sessions. She just drove up. She’s a big girl, easily hefting the portable massage table onto her shoulder. She looks strong and confident.

Later... I confess – I missed the soft sheets, I missed the pillow, I missed the reiki and the foot massage. BUT, for everything that I missed, there was a new surprise. Lori was busy for 75 minutes, covering most of my body repeatedly. She commented that it was obvious I had enjoyed massage in the past because my body was so receptive. The truth is my body simply soaks up massage. All my tissues feel so warm and comfortable right now.

So I suppose I have successfully gone through massage matriculation. I graduated from the Mother Superior school of soft and nurturing with an element of magic to the at-home school of deep muscle therapy best experienced without talking. There isn’t that connection of spirits that was there from my first visit with my last massage therapist, but I feel really good about Lori. I have no intention of turning her into a friend. I simply intend to benefit from her skill as a therapist.