"Even though my mind is hazy and my thoughts they might be narrow, where you been don't bother me nor bring me down in sorrow. It don't even matter to me where you're wakin' up tomorrow, but mama, you'll be on on my mind." ~ Jack Johnson
My mom has been visiting me in my dreams almost every night for the last week. I figure she's there for a reason. But typically we're doing nothing very special -- shopping, trying on new lipstick colors, lounging around. Stuff we used to do together that didn't seem very meaningful but that I always enjoyed. Sometimes we're even arguing a bit. That's not something we did very often at all. But I still love every bit of my dreams with her in them. She's there. Before she was sick. Healthy and happy. That's all that matters. When I wake up, reality shoves me deep in the chest and I'm sputtering from my inability to catch my breath. From having to face another day without her in it.
The emotional ups and downs I'm experiencing lately remind me of the ways she used to soothe me and make me feel safe. Even if I wasn't particularly upset, I would sometimes crave a little affection from my mom and I would ask her to run her fingers through my hair. I don't know if it's something she used to do when I was little, but as a grown woman it somehow always made me feel warm and content. I would lay on the couch with my head in her lap and she would gently use her fingers like a comb through my hair. I'm sure I never asked her to do that when she was sick, so it's been many years now since we've had one of those moments.
But I find myself doing the same with Q. If he's feeling cuddly, then I take full advantage of our time together. I run my fingers through his fuzzy head like rainwater through newly grown grass. I plant little kisses all over his face and head, hoping they will bloom into his feelings of safety and warmth. He murmurs "Mee-ma" and I feel content again. Fingers really do make the best combs.