When I was a little girl my mom would sit on the side of my bed when I was sick and place her cool hand on my forehead. It was comforting, soothing. Her touch said I love you, I’m here, you’re going to be okay.
I’m 73 now and my mom died over 30 years ago, and yet whenever I wake during the night feeling scared or ill I imagine her hand on my forehead and it calms me. I know I’ll be okay.
My son’s baby hands touching, feeling, and examining my fingers. I can still feel his touch, full of wonder.
I remember the feeling of my cat Chloe’s soft paw patting my face – so sweet. I think she was telling me that she loved me. My other cat, Amanda, had the softest fur of any cat I’ve ever had the honor to share my life with. She liked to curl up in front of me when I sat on my cushion to meditate, and sometimes I’d place my hand on her side to feel the vibration of her purr. It became a part of my meditation. Chloe was a part of the experience too – she’d lie down beside me and lay her little head on my thigh. Sometimes when I meditate now I feel both kitties with me, their physical presence, even though they both died a few years ago.
The touch of my partner’s hand on mine, his body next to me, his firm but gentle pressure as his hands massage my sore back. So special, full of love, every time.
Touch heals.