I havn’t been ticklish since my father would rile us up before bed. My mom would always yell at him for making us too wild, but it was our favorite time of the day. Daddy was all ours and mom could yell all she wanted and not even that would stop him.
For that special little nothing to be given back . . . to know what it feels like to laugh till your side hurts, free from restrain, free from judgement, to have all your worries melt like lemon drops way above the chimney tops . . . only one person was able to do that other than my father. This one person is saving me.