Description: Night after night, she came to tuck me in, even long after my childhood years. Following her longstanding custom, she d lean down and push my long hair out of the way, then kiss my forehead.
I don t remember when it first started annoying me — her hands pushing my hair that way. But it did annoy me, for they felt work-worn and rough against my young skin. Finally, one night, I shouted out at her, "Don t do that anymore —your hands are too rough!" She didn t say anything in reply. But never again did my mother close out my day with that familiar expression of her love.
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