Can we talk?

Remembering Little Things

         When I was in the hospital almost 20 years ago, my mother was visiting me with some others in the nearby town. My husband of the time was still immature and not very nurturing. I can't recall where he was. Some of them left the room, seeing how tired I was. Who sleeps in a hospital, right? Alone with me, she started rubbing my nearest arm. I was pooped and reclining at am angle in the bed. I don't recall talking much.

         She just slowly and gently rubbed that arm. I felt safe and cared for with her. Months later, when I was on my feet and living normally, I asked what made her do that. She shrugged and said that I just looked tired, and like maybe I could use a little attention. I don't know how many times after that, I thought about the arm rubbing, and longed for someone to pay that kind of undemanding attention to me. After she passed away, I longed to feel it one more time.

         It takes so little to make someone we love feel cared for. Such little acts of kindness can bind us together, yet we find so little occasion or time to do it. How easy it would be to give a friend who's sick or in the hospital a hand massage. It wouldn't hurt anyone's feelings these days to use hand sanitizer first. These little acts fill our memories. Sometimes we don't recognize them or treasure them until it's too late. Nothing replaces the human touch.