There are some people who are great cooks, those for whom cooking is just a natural talent. I am not one of those fortunate folks. I'm not a terrible cook, but I'm not a great one either. My friend, Annie, however ... Annie was an amazing cook. Everything she cooked was delicious, but I was especially fond of her meatloaf. No matter how hard I've tried, I've never been able to cook a meatloaf that even came remotely close to tasting as good as Annie's. I remember asking her time and time again how much of certain ingredients to add, and her reply was always the same ... "Just a touch of this and a touch of that." Obviously, Annie's measure of "a touch" must have been different than mine since I've never been able to replicate the deliciousness that she created.
I think there's a ton of truth in the words, "You never know how much you will miss something until it's gone." Whether that something is a person or a beloved pet or a job or health or so many other things in life, it seems to me that we as humans take a lot of things for granted every day ... at least I know that I'm guilty of being unappreciative so many times. Over the last week, I've had reason to be in situations that have caused me to become acutely aware of something that once was such a part of my life but that now, except on rare occasions, no longer exists. In the last week, I have felt the arms of my sons around me and their kisses on my cheek as we said goodbye ... a hug from a friend as sobs wracked my weary soul ... a hand of compassion upon my back attempting to soothe my wounded heart ... the tiny fingers of a newborn baby wrapped around my hand as I held her in my arms. And last week, I realized how much I've missed those moments ... those moments of connection, those moments of contact, those expressions of love and understanding.
To those of you who weren't afraid to hug me, to hold me, to touch me, to love me ... thank you. "Just a touch of this and a touch of that" ... I sure do miss you and your wisdom, Annie ... I sure do.
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