We can have many moments of love every day, some connection, a unity of heart and mind that binds us, however temporarily, even with strangers.
She is pretty, for a blonde, and fit, with a runner’s arms and legs, and this isn't the first time she has held my hand. The last time was sixteen weeks ago, when I donated my 138th pint of blood.
Some of the nurses who take my medical history are too efficient, too impersonal, but I like Amanda. Or is it Melissa? Miranda? She is skilled and professional, but she takes time to interact, to ask real questions and laugh as she gets my stats. She sometimes looks at me when I answer.
This time, I felt a small flutter as she rolled back my sleeve for the blood pressure cuff. She scrubbed my finger, as always, but I felt a new connection when she took my left hand in hers. It was sweet, although that's not the word she would use. I looked at her fingers, protected by a thick latex glove, bright blue, holding me secure, and I felt safe. No, not just safe, but appreciated. I felt appreciated, understood. I felt valuable.
I looked at her face in profile, intent with concentration as she punctured my skin. I felt love. Not love like you may be thinking, nothing romantic, nothing sexual, but physical, intimate, worthy.
Here was a woman who enjoyed and excelled at her work, and her devotion to her craft drew me in. Her love for her profession enveloped me, not just because she loves her job, not just because she knows her work is valuable, but because she knows she is good at it.
I'm reading a book called Love 2.0, which claims that we can and should have many such moments of love every day, some connection, a unity of heart and mind that bonds us, however temporarily, even with strangers. The subtitle is fitting: Finding Happiness and Health in Moments of Connection.
The author calls it positivity resonance. I don’t agree with or yet understand everything the author, Barbara Fredrickson, PhD, claims, but I understood positivity resonance with Amanda/Melissa/Miranda. Her touch, her movements, her skill, were irresistible, and I loved her for it.
Minutes later, I watched as she inserted the needle perfectly to begin the draw. Her hands had the effortless flow that only comes from many hours of practice. There was no stick, no sting, no sensation at all, and as a frequent blood donor, you gotta love that.