Last week when I arrived at therapy, the door was closed as usual. I went to the bathroom and when I came back into the waiting room T's door was opened. I always wait to be invited into the room. I sat there and was comforted by his presence with the door opened. T came out to the waiting room, grabbed the bathroom key and gestured for me to go on into the room. I sat on the couch as usual and when he came into the room, he took about 30 seconds to do a couple of things, getting a new box of tissues, pouring a cup of water, putting some paperwork on his desk, etc.

I loved sitting there watching him move around It was so comforting.

Then he sat down and we began.

I was thinking about this exchange and how safe it made me feel. It was so soothing. It reminds me of how much I love it when my H is home and working in the kitchen. I love sitting in the den and knowing he is there just doing stuff. And if he is working outside I sometimes sit nearby also.

These experiences also remind me of my own children and how they would play nearby when they were toddlers---just doing their own thing, but in my presence.

I don't have any memory of playing in my mother's presence although I must have. In fact, I have very little (if any) early childhood memory at all. However, it has become clear that I didn't get enough of her. She was not present enough--there was no constancy about her. All I can conjure up when I try to think about it is an image of her always on the go--never staying in one place.

This week for the first time I remembered T's face outside of session. I woke up knowing I had dreamed about it--but I carried it with me throughout the day yesterday, and this morning I still can "see" it.

Sigh.