Holiday Healing
August, 1987
I packed my bags and left town with the kid. He had always wanted to go to the Caribbean. I didn't care much. My life was shot. OK, not shot.But there comes a time in a woman's life when too much water has gone under the bridge and the idea of knitting seems awfully racy. When even fantasies are too much trouble. When the prospect of being sexual seems appalling. My friends scoffed when I said I was never taking my clothes off in company again. "Well, not for a year," I said. "I m...
