I remember, as a little girl, when I would get sick my Mom seemed like super woman. She always knew what to do, whom to call, and where to go in the midst of illnesses and emergencies. As a child, I'd walk up to my Mom and tell her I didn't feel well and immediately she would place a cool hand to my forehead and know, before the thermometer was ever taken out of its spot in the cupboard, whether I had a fever or not. There was no fooling Mom's hand.
After the appropriate dosage of whatever medicine was given, I would be quickly shuffled off to bed. If I was lucky, I got to lay on the couch and watch tv. But the greatest comfort was my Mother's touch. I loved lying next to her and feeling the soothing, rhythmic motion of her hand brushing my forehead and then into my hair. Even now, that is soothing to me. And, it is something that I find myself doing with Violet when she doesn't feel well.
I guess there is a part of us that never grows too old for our Mother's touch. We long for comfort and desire it in the ways that we are most familiar with. For some, that's chicken noodle soup in a mug. For others, it can mean being tucked in a warm fuzzy blanket. And hopefully, for most, that means a mother's soothing hand that is brushing all the pain and stress away.