With her tiny infant head laying gently in my lap I brush her fine soft curls damp from sleep, from her face. She is mine, my beautiful angelic child, I think to myself in wonder and amazement. My finger tips slowly. gently circle the rim of her ear and she continues to breathe methodically. Is she dreaming? A faint smile dances across her little face. She is content, and I am taking every second in and savoring it. Will I forget this moment when she is bounding down the front step toward the school bus?

The boys all loved to have their backs rubbed and I spent many hours coaxing them into slumber spooned in their bed, listening for the sound of deep sleep. Beyond that they were different from the girl. They were rough and tumble. Quick to say “I am ok” when they scraped a knee or fell from their bike. They were my angels too, always sweetly presenting me with a flower they plucked from the path along the sidewalk on the way in the door.

As she grew, the tender gesture became a request whenever she was restless or hurt or crying. It magically transformed her feelings within a moment to calm, peace and either sleep or a great big smile.

Today she is 24, soon to celebrate birthday number 25 and she still curls up on the couch next to me snuggling in a fetal position. “Mommy, do the ear thingee”. Of course I obey. I wonder, will she stop asking me soon?

Will she calm her own babies with this loving touch? I will offer it to them when I am holding them close and calmly nudging my tiny grandchildren to slumber.

They will forever be our babies.