untouchable

"I'm reaching out and I just can't tell you why."

It felt like being lost. He was in a chair, in a hallway. That much he knew. He could see sun shining through an open window at the end of the hall. The thought suddenly came to him that he liked sunny days. He looked eagerly at the window for just one second, but the cloud of confusion he was under was overwhelming. So he continued to sit.

Otis. The name came to him and he was almost sure it was his name. Otis. It was a good name. Reliable, masculine, hardworking man's name. So Otis sat in his chair searching for a memory. How did he get here? And where is here? He closed his eyes tried to remember, but there was just fragments of childhood. Climbing trees, eating supper at a large table busy with lots of kids, sitting in a classroom, playing football with a beat-up, practically flat football. He opened his eyes. These were not the hands of a child. These hands were old, worn from time and hard work.

Then there she was. A beautiful woman. Thick, silky gray hair. Dressed well, with an energy that defied her age. And she looked directly at him and called his name. Otis. Yes, that was his name. The woman knew him.

She came and sat in a chair beside him. She talked about things he didn't know. People whose names were unfamiliar. She showed him pictures of young kids. Someone else's grandkids. He held one picture for a long time. That kid looked so much like himself in the fragmented childhood he was trying desperately to hold onto.

But there was her. Everything about her seemed familiar. The urge to caress her hair and hold her hand was strong, but she would think he was crazy. She seemed so familiar. He could imagine her younger. Making dinner in a kitchen surrounded by kids. Kissing him quickly on his way out the door to work. He felt connected to her. Like he had known her all his life. This must be love at first sight.

Then she was leaving, though it seemed she had just gotten here. She kissed him on the cheek, squeezed his hand gently, and was gone.

He was in a chair, in a hallway. That was all he knew. The sun was shining through an open window at the end of the hall. The memory of a young boy standing happily in the sunshine on a summer's day fleeted by. And the image came to him of a young woman kissing her husband on his way to work in the morning. He smiled.