Monday, November 14, 2011

A Fevered Brow

So whatever is going around has taken me in and begs to remain. How I wish I was back on the farm with Mom to look after me.

We seemed to be ill a lot on the farm. I attribute it to a drafty house and sometimes not the most sanitary of conditions. It wasn't unusual to play in the barn then come into the house to grab something to eat....bypassing the hand washing.

Mom was great at providing an atmosphere of care. When I was sick with German measles or a miserable with chicken pox, Mom made soup and saw to my every need. She held our heads when we were feverish wiping our faces with a damp cloth. She held us when we were in misery and sat with us when she could. After we got the TV, Mom made a bed on the sofa for her ailing child. We always knew that Mom would take good care of her ill children nursing them back to health.

When a Loxley girl was ill, neighbors and relatives stopped by to see how the ailing child was doing. Sometimes they brought something for us to eat knowing that Mom had her hands full. Sometimes they came and sat with the child. Our medical staff was the people who were part of our lives. Dad always stopped in during his busy day to bring some sunshine to the sick child. Sometimes he even brought in a winter breeze.

Even though I'm sixty-four, I still want the loving hand of my mother on my brow. I want to crawl back into the warm memory of the past and be visited by Doris, Margaret, Betty and even the men of Neff Road who cared about the Loxley girls.

Today I think I might live. It's a struggle, but I'm working at it. I still hear my mom asking, "Can I get you anything?"

Oh, yes, Mom. Oh, yes.

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