.. and wanting. I gasp and let out a sharp cry as I feel the first touch of something, more shock than pain. My mind processes the feeling, the sens...tion, and I realize it is a light touch, feathery, sleek. It could, indeed, be a feather... or fringe of a blanket... perhaps his hair. I can only imagine, not determine, as the touches and teases continue. The feathery feeling is gone now, replaced with something cold and wet... an ice cube? a popscicle? his fingers, dipped in ice water? . ’ She sat straight up, and looking me in the eyes, asked, ‘Do you miss Mommy, and does it hurt when you think about her?’ ‘Yes,’ I truthfully answered, ‘But it doesn’t hurt as bad as it used to.’ ‘ You loved her very much,’ she sadly asked, ‘Didn’t you?’ ‘I still do,’ I replied smiling, ‘But as long as I can look at you, I’ll always have a part of her here with me. I’ve always told you how much you look like her.’ ‘I know,’ she smiled, ‘Uncle Bobby and Aunt Sue say the same thing, too.’ Then. More

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