I was sitting on the couch, holding Little Man on my lap. His tiny hand traveled up my arm and then stopped and rested up under my sleeve. There I was holding my son watching (insert the name of your favorite inane children's show here - they're all the same) and that little hand on that particular spot on my arm triggered a memory, and I was zapped back in time.
I was 16 years old, sitting next to hubby (then my boyfriend - yes, we were high school sweethearts) in the auditorium of our high school. He was on my right, and a friend of mine was on my left. I don't remember why we were in the auditorium - I'm sure to hear some "important" announcements or watch an amateur talent show. Anyway, as we sat there hubby's hand rested on my upper arm, right under my sleeve. I remember this because later my friend made a comment to me about it, to the effect that he had "gone up" my shirt.
I guess her definition of "going up" one's shirt was different than mine. (Besides, we hardly ever did that at school!)
The smell of a poopy diaper can always bring you back to reality...
I don't think I've thought about that day since. The human mind is a funny thing.