The Comforts of Childhood

My mother moved quietly around the bed, carefully selecting bits of the blanket to gently push beneath me, tucking me in for the night.

A chill was in the air, and even though I could have bundled myself off to bed for the night, there was something so special in knowing that someone else was there caring for me, and making sure I was warm, and loved, as I drifted off to sleep for the night.
We took those days for granted, and our childhood is now but a blink in time and a soft, loving, memory we look back on.

When my own children were small, I used to fight the battle all parents fight; with children who want to grow up, all too fast.
They were teased when collecting trading cards that their peers thought they were too old to collect; and young girls exchanged doll dresses and imagination, for make-up and trendy fashions.

I would remind them that they would have only one shot at being a child and they would have their whole to be lived as adults and to do adult things. I begged them to do as they pleased, to play with their toys and dolls as long as they could, and to ignore taunts from others less informed on the ways of youth.

I suppose those sentiments offered little comfort in those pressure-filled days, of wanting to be included in the 'popular' crowd, with kids who were constantly trying to be someone they weren't.

I wanted my kids to be true to who they were and not try to be like everyone else.
And I wanted them to always remember they were loved and wanted for themselves, and not for what they might do or not do, when they grew up and went out into the world.

I wanted them to have the little comforts life offers - like being tucked in at night by a mother who wanted them to feel snug and secure and loved.

This morning, as I was making our bed, I thought about my husband who was off at work and how hard life can be when we get older. He ushers in his day at 4:30 am and sets off in the wee, dark hours of the morning while most of our neighbours are still asleep.
He works so hard every day.

Just last night, there was a chill in the air. And as he finished dressing himself for the day, he walked around the bed, carefully tucking me in, repeating, "Go back to sleep, love," several times.

A little bit of my childhood came drifting back to me . . . and I was wrapped in warm memories of days long ago and comforted in knowing that love still can happen at any age.