The Massage By Micah Klassen A weighted blanket is draped over my body, its pressure strangely comforting. My belly, chest, and thighs marinate in the warmth of the heated bed beneath, scents of peppermint, lavender, bergamot, and ylangylang mingling in my nostrils. Silver lamps mounted to the walls of this small, angular room send out an apricot glow; soft, melodic piano drifts from hidden speakers. I adjust my limbs a little, shuffle further back under the blanket and nestle my face into the doughnut-shaped head support in front of me, its cool material pressing against my forehead. Is this what it feels like to be inside the womb? I wonder, noticing the sensation of being enveloped in softness, supported completely — almost weightless. Maybe this is how it feels to be swaddled, I muse, smiling to myself. Somewhere, somehow, I bet adult swaddling is a real-life thing. I make a mental note to google it later. For the next hour, however, I am going to step off the mental treadmill of mothering two very active little boys and let my mind go where it wants, unhurried; I will allow my overstressed body to be gently nurtured, and I will shed my impenetrable caregiving uniform in order to bare pieces of my scarred postpartum skin to a complete stranger — I’ll be completely vulnerable for awhile, just like a newborn. Tap-tap-tap! A gentle knock on the door interrupts my thoughts. “Come in!” I say, without lifting my head. I hear it slowly swing open as footsteps approach and a female voice asks “All ready?” I murmur something affirmative in reply, grateful for spa etiquette which stipulates: “No obligation to converse.” Today, my conversational energy has already been used up on my toddler, who recently turned three and loves plumbing the depths of his rapidly-expanding vocabulary. Clicks and swishes fill the silence between us as she goes about setting up, placing essential oil bottles on the counter adjacent to the massage table, readying necessary equipment. After a few minutes, she sprays something divine-smelling under my
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