Touch.

It was a Sunday. I was 5, maybe 6. We had relatives over. I was in my room, sad. Wanting attention. I was sitting on the bottom bunk, crying. My parents and aunt Bonnie were in the dining room at the table. I cried louder. And louder until someone heard me. Bonnie came in, asked me what was wrong. "I don't know" I kept saying over and over. She had me on her lap. I remember this like it was yesterday. "Well I can't help you if you don't tell me what's wrong" she said. She had a point. But I didn't want to tell her what was really wrong. Because nothing was wrong. I just wanted a hug...from my mom. I wanted her in that room with her arms around me, squeezing the sadness away. Eventually Bonnie gave up and left my small bedroom. A few minutes later, my mom came in...scooped me up and held me. And I was fine.

I get a little choked up just thinking about that moment. Feeling are time travelers you know. That was me. That still is me.

Amazing what the human touch will do. I find now that I'm a mom I don't feel like I need that as much as I did when I was a child. And I forget that my children need it- long for it. There's something about being held The pressure of a tight hug. The softness of my moms skin, hearing her soft muffled voice through her chest as I lay against her. The safety. It's powerful, a moms love and touch. They're fond fond memories. I still get that feeling when I hug my mom today. Now I can create those same feeling for my own children. Feelings of safety, love, like nothing else matters. To a child, nothing else does matter. What an amazing gift. I must remember this. I must give this. I will try harder.