“You must remember this
A kiss is still a kiss
a sigh is just a sigh…”
Sometimes there are things in life you convince yourself that you miss.
You may not really miss it, but because other people have it and you do not, you decide that maybe you miss it.
I miss. Or I think I should miss.
(Don’t get too excited! 8) ) I’m talking about a kiss from my oldest daughter.
Her oral motor coordination is still very poor; she cannot blow candles, bubbles, whistles… or those blowout thingies you get at birthday parties. She has never formed a pucker or given a kiss. She does not seem to know how to show affection, so even if she could physically form a kiss, she would probably not do it.
I had a dream once that they did a re-make of the movie “Never Been Kissed” – only it was “Never Been Kissed By My Kid”, and I played the lead part.
But, like hearing I love you, I am secure in the belief that she loves me whether she says so or shows me. My mothering is not validated by how she acknowledges me or appreciates my efforts. I do what I do simply because I love her. I have learned not to need my affections reciprocated.
But I treasure those fleeting moments of true connection with all my heart.
Lately… every now and then… when I steal a hug, she’ll press her face against mine for just a moment… long enough to blink.
Could it be? A Rhema kiss? I wonder.
Nope. It’s a sensory thing, she’s seeking deep pressure into her face. That’s all it is, I tell myself.
All too often I’m ready to ascribe an autism-reason for her actions and behaviors. Even so, this time, I pretend it’s really a kiss. When she does it, I supply the word “kiss” and then say, “Thank you, Rhema!”
After her therapy visit, Rhema’s teacher Courtney brought her out and said, “She was so interactive today. I even got a butterfly kiss!”
“Oh, so you think they’re kisses, too???”
So now it’s official.
I am Drew Barrymore no longer.
I’ve been kissed by an angel.