I loath my face being touched.
When I was in labor with Eli I remember writing on my "birth plan" that under no circumstances would it be considered acceptable to touch my face.
A sure way for Matt to freak me out is for him to reach over an caress my cheek.
He never does it as an expression of love. He does it on purpose to make me crazy.
I don't know why it bothers me so much but I think it has something to do with my germ fear. Hands are dirty and I don't want germy, dirty, greasy hands touching my face.
There are two circumstances that I welcome the face touching.
First: Face touching by a certified professional face toucher. Such as an esthetician giving me a facial or sprucing up my eye brows.
Totally fine.
Second: the sweet, tender touch of my grandmother's hand.
I was blessed to spend all day yesterday with my grandma. It was a good day for her. For the first time since I arrived a week ago, she was able to speak to me. Not just answers of "yes" or "no". Or repeating "good night" or "I love you" after I spoke the same words to her. But actual sentences that were clear.
We talked about the ever important subject of acceptable ice cream brands. For the first time when I asked her if she wanted me to read the Bible to her, she said she did, and she listened as I read. She talked to me about how she was feeling, and she laughed and smiled as we spent a good chunk of the day together.
Later in the evening she was uncomfortable and I bent down beside her and told her how sorry I was that she was in pain. She reached up and touched my face and settled her hand on my chin. No words were needed. Her eyes and her touch spoke to my soul.
Before I headed for bed I prayed with her and again, she reached for me. I can still feel her hand move across my cheek and stop at my lips. I leaned over and gave her a kiss and told her I love her so. She told me the same, and I know she wasn't just repeating the customary words this time. I knew that she was taking in this moment just as I was doing the same.
Today…was a new day. No conversation that made much sense at all. A lot of confusion, discomfort, and no gentle touches. Though I would have never thought I would want it, I found myself hoping for her to reach out to me again, and run her sweet hand across my face.
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