Memories of Touch

When you grow older, it's amazing how some memories of long ago times are still so fresh in your mind. Many of mine are of touch. My earliest and strongest memory of being caressed by the early summer sun is of when I was 11 years old. Strong memories of the touch of my children's and grandchildren's baby skin stay filed away in my mind, too. I don't imagine I'll ever forget the touch of my husband's skin, either.

Stored away in my memory are surprisingly fresh pictures of the day a girl pushed me hard when I was about 12 years old. It hurt but I refused to flinch and hit her back hard enough that she never approached me again. I remember the sting of pain when my grandmother whipped me with my skipping rope or my grandfather's razor strop. But I don't remember the feel of pain when I gave birth to my children, only a vague memory of the events themselves.

I remember how lovely it felt to raise my face to the warm sunshine but know the sun on my face these days bring only a slight fear since having skin cancer. I remember the pain of sore feet in new shoes when I was about 16. The shoes were cute so I gladly suffered the pain rather than changing shoes.

I remember the feel of heartache...that happened many times over my lifetime but I haven't felt that in a long, long time. I hope I never do again.

I also hold dear in my memories the feeling of being hugged by friends who love me. Those are such pleasant memories.

Memories...it's a good idea to fill your mind with as many good ones as you can manage so that they can push the bad ones to a small corner where they can't overwhelm you ever again.