Day 12: Afternoon Back Rubs

I don't remember the brand name, but there was a talcum powder that my grandpa liked me, my older sister, and cousins to use for his afternoon back rubs. We were smaller at the time, so it wasn't uncommon to find two, three, or four of us crowded around him on the double bed he shared with my grandma, his back bared between us like a game board, a quarter awaiting each us after our task was complete.

Grandpa had deeply tanned skin on his upper body, especially his forearms. He was a worker at heart, and his skin wore that toil. He also liked to sit for hours on the front patio, often without his white t-shirt, drinking his coffee and smoking his Camels. It was the 1970s, so no sunscreen for him.

As he napped, we would spend half an hour or more working designs into his back, four to six little hands going at one time. One of us would sprinkle and healthy dusting of the powder all over his back, and I'm sure a good deal onto the bedspread. Sometimes we'd pretend to bake bread, and other times we'd fashion a vegetable garden, plowing rows through the white, chalky soil with our fingers, and then pinching, pinching, pinching his skin as we pretended to plant seeds in the neatly drawn furrows. It's been more than 30 years since this ritual occurred, but I can remember sharp smell of the powder as it briefly clouded the air between us before settling onto the work surface. I can still recall the feel and look of his back, they way the skin on his shoulder darkened and creased in small diamond shapes as I squeezed it tightly in my hand. Sometimes, I notice the skin on my own shoulder react the same way.

Today, while we relaxed in final resting pose, the teacher, Cat, gave each student a gentle adjustment and neck rub. Before she started, she dabbed an essential oil on her wrists. (Her small offering of aromatherapy to help us deepen into our relaxation.)

The moment she pressed her hands to my shoulders, I smelled it--my grandpa's talcum powder. It was summer, I was seven, and my crew had 30 minutes to plant our garden and collect our 25 cents. The sense of Grandpa--everything that was strong, funny, and deeply loving about him--was instantly with me.

Grandpa died 18 years ago, in the same bedroom where we used to rub his back. In his last days, his strong forearms, back, and shoulders weakened and paled by his sickness, maybe someone opened a bottle of his talcum powder and gently rubbed his failing limbs. And, maybe the sharp scent of the powder brought some of these sweet memories back to him. I wish I would have thought to do that. I wish I could do it now.