Curling up in my bed and weeping till the pain resigns is all I do whenever my back hurts like hell.
During all those years I lived with my parents, every single time I got back ache, my mother would immediately sense that something was wrong, come running to my room, sit next to me and massage my lower back until I fell asleep. No words were ever spoken…but somehow her heart hurt when I wept, my pain eased with her one touch and her ache vanished when my tears dried.
How all that happened has been a mystery to me, till date. The touch of love, she calls it…when someone cares for you enough, that love helps in the healing process, she says.
Now that I’m living on my own, every time my back gives me hard time, I can’t help but hope that my mother was around to lend her soothing hands to heal my pain. She still senses that I’m not ok, calls me and makes sure I’m not crying my heart out. But it’s not the same…I miss that touch, I miss the fact that she isn’t sitting next to me, I miss falling asleep knowing that when I wake up the pain will be no more, I miss her.
It happened yesterday. I started the day with terrible back pain…I was lying in bed silently weeping and sincerely hoping for some miracle to happen.
And that’s when you walked in.
You came, you sat next to me and you rubbed that ointment on my lower back. You waited patiently for me to stop crying. You didn’t mind that I didn’t say a word. You didn’t care that there were other important things waiting for you to complete. You didn’t bother about your breakfast or lunch. All you wanted to do was ease my pain. And you did…just like Amma always did !
And for the first time in years, yesterday, I didn’t have to miss her as much. Because, in your presence I felt a lot of warmth and care.
A mother’s miracle touch, it sure was not…but a touch of love, it was nonetheless.