Muscle Memories

Muscle memory. Most people don’t realize it exists even though it is utilized in the accomplishment of our everyday tasks. Brushing our teeth, tying our shoes, driving to work. Muscle memory comes into play in any endeavor – typing, martial arts, riding a bicycle, playing a musical instrument. We acknowledge it is there, using terms such as “got the hang of it” or “learned the feel of it.”

I know I have muscle memory. There have been times when I was teaching someone how to do my job that I could not tell them how I did a certain function on the computer. I would have to tell them to get up and watch my hands as I did the function.

I had never considered how much muscle memory was tied to being married to someone for two-thirds of your life. Until this morning.

I had a long weekend of crying, mourning Greg, missing his presence. It took me three days to take down Christmas decorations at work and I had up about a tenth of what I normally have. In the process of grieving, I thought about a lot of different things, one of which was a conversation I had with a life-long friend a couple of weeks ago.

Her husband died four years ago. While she isn’t dating, she does communicate regularly with a high school classmate. She told me that I needed to find a man. No idea why she thinks that but I told her that I didn’t need a man in my life, that I’d had Greg for forty-two years and was still grieving over him.

This morning, in the midst of another bout of tears, I started thinking about the possibility of another man in my life. That’s when muscle memory came into play. I cannot imagine touching a man besides Greg, for when I think about touching another man, my hands and body recall the feel of Greg. The warmth of his skin. The strength in his muscles. The comfort of his arms around me. The beat of his heart against my back as I lay snuggled against him. The softness and curl of his hair wrapped around my fingers. The tenderness of his kiss.

Will my muscles ever forget the feel of Greg?