How To Make A Bad Day Better

I got the call while she was on her way home. She was clearly upset and was not making a lot of sense. I invited her over, offering a shoulder on which to lean and a non-judgmental ear with which to listen. She accepted, as I suspected she would, because I knew this was a time when she needed to talk. She really needed someone that would just listen. Before she got here, I fixed a drink for her, put a pillow and a comforter on the couch and brought out my secret weapon, placing it cleverly under the end table where she would not see it.

When she got here, I gave her a lingering hug, kissed her gently, guided her to the couch, had her stretch out, covering her with the comforter, and offered her the drink. I sat with her feet in my lap and asked her to tell me about her day. The problems were really not as important for me to hear, as my advice was not being sought, merely my comfort. I slowly removed her shoes as she described the trials and tribulations of her day; the boss did this, Betty said that; and how all of it made her feel.

I reached down under the end table and discreetly brought out my secret weapon, a bottle of sesame massage oil. I poured a small amount in my hands, rubbing them together to warm the oil. As she talked I rubbed her left foot; first the underside with my thumbs; the ball of the foot and the arch, up and down the foot. I used a firm pressure, but not painful, enough to reach the sore and aching muscle deep within the foot. She sighed at the attention to her foot and continued to describe the ordeal that had been her day.

I rubbed the bottom of her foot with my fingers and the tops of her foot with my thumbs, moving up and down, steadily, feeling the tension working out of it. When the arches and sole of her foot had relaxed, I took each toe, one at a time, between my thumb and fingers, gently stretching each one ever so slightly while rubbing up and down on it. Again, I could feel the toes relax and I could see them almost uncurl, as they held the tension within them by gripping like little clenched fingers. Slowly they relaxed and straightened.

She had slowed her talking now, but was still describing everything that was wrong with the place where she worked and the people she worked for, but her voice occasionally trailed off to a deep relaxed sigh as I felt her foot relax and unwind. I moved my hands to her ankles and rubbed the strong and stressed muscles that had held her up on her feet most of the day. I rubbed with that perfect firmness the muscles in her ankle that had moved her foot as she had walked all day, my fingers cupping her heel, thumbs rubbing up and down each side of her ankle.

Her foot was limp at the ankle now and her toes all straight, the tension exorcised by the ministrations of my hands. She held her drink on her chest, having sipped most of it down during brief pauses in her account of the idiocy of that day. Her chest rose and fell more slowly now and she had stopped talking. She was too relaxed for speech, in too much pleasure for complaint. I could hear her sigh when I hit one of those just right spots she had that felt so good when they received the attention of my strong hands.

I laid her foot down, only to have her sigh in protest, but the protest quickly ended when I crossed her right ankle over her left and began to rub that foot. Careful not to pay more or less attention to the right foot than the left, lest one be jealous of the other.  I rubbed her other foot in the same strong, deliberate fashion as I had the other. Her words had ceased by now and she was only moaning in response to my attention to her right foot, more so than she had to my working her left foot, but she had relaxed by now and her stress was clearly cut my more than half, so she could truly enjoy the attention.

As I rubbed that remaining foot and felt the tension flowing out of her body through it, I finished to find that she was sound asleep, breathing deeply and completely relaxed finally. As gently and carefully as I could, I lifted her feet and got off the couch, taking from her hand the drink, now containing nothing more than melting ice. I quietly walked into the kitchen and started cooking the dinner I knew she would be hungry for when she awakened.