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My mother was not an overly affectionally person. I was the youngest of four. The first three children born in our family were three years and two months apart. I was born seven and one half years later somewhat of a surprise.
I think in some ways I was consider special because I was the baby. I will say that I did not always feel that I was special. Actually most of the time I felt that I was in the way. Different perspectives.
What I do remember is the touch of my mother. I did not hear "I love you" but I felt the hand of my mother on my back. Sometimes it was just a hand on my back, sometimes it was a pat, sometimes it was a small rub. She would just do this as she walked by me. And sometimes it was my mother holding my hand while we were crossing a street when I was not really a child. These touches came even after I married. All of those touches said "I love you" to me. I cherish those memories. I have many memories of my mother that include watching her cook and my learning how to cook from just being with her and watching but my favorite memory is about her touch.
She died while in my home in 1957 when I was twenty-two. Fifty-one years later I still miss her touch.
abe
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