13.
Any child being tucked into bed by my Aunt Lillie might be lucky enough to delay the inevitable a bit by a game of Touched You Last, in which she would take an unexpected little swipe at you and then say, "Touched you last!" and scoot gleefully toward the door.
This would of course prompt the child to leap from bed and chase her down, poking her back and saying,"Touched you last!" before diving for the covers.
On a good night, a kid might get a full five minutes of extra time with this back-and-forth play. It remains one of my favorite memories. Aunt Lillie was already 70 years old by the time she began sneakily "touching me last," and she seemed to get just about as much delight out of it as I did at age 5. (Or, I'll admit, 12.)
Maybe she was just a great actress. Either way, she worked her magic.
Of course, from my point of view, the appeal was never winning but rather keeping her near. I don't think I ever actually hoped to score the last touch. Did anyone? It was much nicer to lose, and go to sleep knowing that there was someone in the next room who loved you and not only wanted to touch you right up until the last second, but also got a happy little jolt of satisfaction when they did.
Anyway, it comes to my attention quite frequently that my need for some childish things was never outgrown. "Touch you last" is one of the latest I've noticed. Because I guess I'm still playing.
I have a few people with whom I converse during most days, across a variety of media and devices. I count this as one of the lifesaving advances of the 21st century. Aunt Lillie had to sit by the rotary dial in her sunny kitchen to check in with her circle every morning before getting to her busy day, often waiting a full 24 hours before the next injection of gossip or advice. Or just plain touch.
I once had a friend describe me by saying, "She says she wants the last word, but she doesn't really like it if you actually let her have it."
I pretended to be affronted by that remark, although it was dead on, of course. A real friend may be the person who knows you better than you know yourself, and kindly helps facilitate an introduction.
Why would I ever want the last word? It's much nicer to have the pleasure of a notification--that happy signal from someone you love that they're thinking of you even when you're apart--than it is to have landed the last touch and be left waiting, hoping they'll come back so the conversation can continue.
I couldn't live without these virtual touches in my day. Or at least I wouldn't want to.
Anyway, with Aunt Lillie we kids did manage to score the last touch, years ago, tucking some of her favorite African violets in her hand and putting a bit of cotton in each ear to keep out the always-dreaded breeze before they closed the lid and carted her off. On that day, there was no glee. Just gratitude.
It doesn't mean our game is over. I remain hopeful that she's somewhere, waiting only for the opportunity to take another swipe. When that time comes, we'll be on equal footing, and neither one of us will ever have to be sent to bed.