I miss my mother. She has been gone twelve years this past Thanksgiving day. I know I will always miss her, just as I know our love for each other will always connect us. Death does not change love; love is still here.
Among the many memories I hold dear is a simple nap ritual she created for my little sister and me. I can first place this memory as young as four and a half because of where we moved in 1954. My mother would have been 33 and my sister two.
Mommy, as she was then called, led us into out little girls’ bedroom each afternoon. We stretched out on our backs on our double bed and she sat between us – so she could nap after we fell asleep. The way she helped us relax into slumber was to ever so gently touch our faces with the tips of her fingers, stroking our foreheads and cheeks. Often, one or both of us would request, “Smooth me, Mommy, smooth me.” Many years later, she explained she probably said she was soothing us, and we called it smoothing.
When I recall the sweetness, safety, compassion, and drowsy atmosphere of those afternoons, I can almost feel my mama smoothing away my cares.
Do you have a memory of some moment of sweetness in your past?
Blissings, Dena
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