My mom passed at the end of July. She was 97 and lived independently, ordering her groceries on Insta Cart after her doctor, at the end of April, told her she should no longer be driving. She also cleaned her house herself, read three newspapers, one of them was bilingual Italian/English, and regularly filled me in on the newest programs coming up on Netflix. I feel fortunate to have had my mother in my life for so much longer than most people. Nevertheless, I miss her and have had emotional ups and downs since her passing.
A couple of weeks after my mom passed, I visited my daughter and her family. The days were busy and filled with activities. One day we went to the water slides in Paso Robles for my grandson’s birthday. It was a blast! This was followed by a small family dinner to continue his birthday celebration.
At the end of the weekend, before I got on the road to head home, I stopped at a local coffee shop. With the lack of family distractions, I was feeling a bit raw as I sipped my coffee and thought about my mom, while trying not to think about her. I was deep into my own world when I felt the softest, gentlest touch on each side of my head and then down to my shoulders. It felt heavenly! Immediately my mind and body collided with that feeling of slowly coming out of a deep meditation. I was feeling somewhat dreamy when I heard a woman say “We don’t touch people.”
When I turned my head I realized a young girl with desensitizing headphones and a different type of affect was being chastised by her caretaker, who quickly ushered her away from me. I was stunned because the touch of this young girl felt good, as if I had been touched by an angel.
Years ago I worked with a boy on the autism spectrum. I was his exclusive teacher, in a classroom by ourselves, at a middle school. I not only taught him academics, but a farther reaching goal of helping him to integrate into a regular classroom. I knew him well. I mention this because he had a unique view of the world. I often wondered what it would be like if people on the autism spectrum were the majority, and the rest of us were the odd ones who had to conform to their world. In a similar way, I wonder what would happen if the young girl at the coffee shop was allowed to touch people of her choosing. I imagine, on the day that I was in the coffee shop, she knew I needed her healing touch.
Love this post and this young girl's gift to you. As a retired elementary school teacher, I recall doing weekly art lessons with my students. One of their favorites was working with clay and finally glazing and firing their projects. To create a beautiful result requires patience and sensitivity forming, molding, and smoothing the clay. I remember noting that my students with academic challenges were the ones who had the patience to take their time, not getting discouraged by cracks and collapses, producing beautiful objects. Every person has special gifts they bring to the world. What a world it would be if we looked for an individual's gifts rather than deficits.
i love this one about the young girl on the spectrum.