>Rushing over to me, tears streaming, she says simply:
No matter what ache has befallen her, a kiss from mama makes it all okay.
And I’m wishing, now, that there was a panacea for me, some balm of Gilead that would work like that… or that it were true that a mother’s kiss could heal all wounds. Not that that would change much for me, with my mom half a continent away, though perhaps she could blow some into an old perfume bottle for me, and I could touch the stopper to wherever it hurt. Tenderly. Reverently. And feel better.
But then Olive comes over and says yet again:
and this time it’s for me – one on each cheek, as she always does – and I think maybe a daughter’s kiss works just as well.