Been spending most of today with CatGirl nesting on the couch with pillows and cozy blankies. She’s been intermittently running a high fever (102-104) for the past 24 hours.
With her head leaning on my shoulder and her lanky body curled into mine, I remember her baby days when she rarely wanted to lose touch. She was my little monkey, arms wrapped tightly around my neck. When I sat in a chair she would stand behind me, running her fingers through my hair (when she got a bit older she loved to give me ‘pretty hairdos’ with her rainbow-colored barrettes).
Now, with the flush of fever showing red on her cheeks and lips, my instinct is to hold her tight, to absorb the heat. Remembering a time when our bodies were joined–mine feeding hers, nurturing the small ball of tissue that would eventually grow into my bright and graceful girl.
Today I ache to add my strength to hers again. Because she feels so small and fragile in my arms.