Hair

I love having my hair played with. I like the calming effect of someone running their fingers through it, not so much in a sexual way, but more with tenderness and caring.

I remember every Tuesday my brother and I would get picked up after school by our dad and he'd take us home, we'd pick up our clothes and things for the next day, then we'd go to his place to stay the night. On the way, we'd stop at the pharmacy on the corner and my brother and I would be allowed to choose one chocolate bar each. If we weren't trying to make it last as long as possible, we'd play tricks on each other and say we were going to see who could eat it the fastest. Inevitably, one of us would stuff it down quickly and the other would sit there smugly, slowly enjoying the rest of their chocolate while the 'winner' had nothing left.

It was those days that I also had my brother convinced for a while that certain types of trucks only drove on certain days of the week. We tortured each other. Physically and mentally.

One of our biggest battles was who would be the last one on a Tuesday night that dad said goodnight to. Once we were in bed, he'd come into the room in the dark, talk to us, and stroke our foreheads and run his hands through our hair. I'm sure he tried to alternate who he paid attention to first, but it was so much better when you were last. He sat there the longest with the one he did second. I'm sure it wasn't intentional; just that while he was paying attention to the first one of us, he knew he still had the other to attend to, so you couldn't make him stay just that little bit longer.

Funny how I just thought of that.

I think it was the only affection we got growing up.