Bed-Time, Continued

Last night, Memory was played without incident (although right before the five-minute warning Princess began repeating three-word phrases over and over in a hip-hop rhythm- a sure sign that the end is near). Pajamas were put on and teeth were brushed without a word of complaint. And if that weren't weird enough, when she hugged Josh good-night, she did it with a gigantic smile. The kind that went all the way up to her eyes. The kind I've seen exactly 11 of in the past four years. Did you get that? I have COUNTED them.

We read her I Spy book, prayed sang cuddled. I went down and said to Josh, "so, what did you say to her?"
"To who?"
"To Princess. What did you say to get that smile?"
"I didn't say anything. I just gave her a hug."

Huh.

So the smile, THAT SMILE, the 12th smile, was because I was tucking in just her. Just she and I. All my attention. No one else there.

That small thing.

I felt so sad. So small. Here I am, all she has for a mother, having lost everything else, and that's all I've given her, and it made her happy.

So my next step for myself is more hugs. Five for now, no matter how artificial they feel. She is not touched enough. She doesn't get those warm fuzzy chemicals that wash over you when you're touched. She's made sure of it. It's up to me now to make sure otherwise.