Today I woke up feeling really awful. This room-spinning sensation reminds me of the vertigo and nausea experienced when I had a bacterial infection as a child. When I am sick, I am a real baby. Nausea turns me into a toilet-hugging cry-baby! It's a good thing for my husband that I am rarely sick. He was such a sweetie to come home from work on his lunch hour just to check on me. I got a rare gem when I married him almost thirty seven years ago.
When we are sick, we need our mommies. We need her to put a cold washcloth on our forehead and hold our hair back when we throw up. She'll bring us chicken noodle soup with saltine crackers and ginger ale with no ice to sip with a straw. Mamas make sure our pillows are fluffed up and our pillowcases are fresh. She'll straighten the sheets and make sure our blankets are tucked up tight under our chins. You may hear her busily working in another room, but she'll be by your side in a moment when you softly call her name. Mama's ears are tuned to the voices and cries of their children...even in the middle of the night.
Mamas can recognize a fever by placing her cheek against yours or by touching her cool hand to your brow. They instinctively know how to make you feel better...just by being there. I missed my Mama today. She's been in heaven with Jesus for almost seven years. I'm thankful for all those times that she lovingly took care of me when I was sick...as a child and as an adult.
A huge thank you goes to my wonderful husband for pinch-hitting in her absence. You are not Mama, but you are a good nurse!
Copyright 2011 Charlotte Laney
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
Daisy Was Her Name
Daisy Was Her Name Daisy was her name. My Grandma Mac was a tall woman with wiry white hair rolled into a bun. At least that's how I rem...
-
Last night the two oldest "littles" stayed overnight. They worked 4th of July word puzzles and coloring pages. Later, we made po...
-
I think I'm getting acclimated to this July weather. We've had so many days with over 90 degree temperatures that this morning'...
-
Daisy Was Her Name Daisy was her name. My Grandma Mac was a tall woman with wiry white hair rolled into a bun. At least that's how I rem...
You are so right! I miss Mother and Mother Pearl!
ReplyDeleteNo matter what age we are, Sharon, there's no greater comfort than a mother's love. There are so many days when I wish I could just call and hear her voice.
ReplyDelete