Happy cats make for happy homes

adolescence Alabama beliefs blogging calm change Chicago crisis crushes dreams family fear flint hills food friends happiness health being a hippie holiday home internship kids loss love magic memories money music parties perfection plants projects relationships relaxation reminiscing ritual school social work issues spirits sports stress style the South violence weather weather worries writing



Go now. Go.

There’s something about Sunday night
that really makes you want to kill yourself
Subscribe to this blog
for e-mail updates

Friday, March 23, 2007

No touching

There's a no-touching policy at the hospital. I can understand it. Once a boy snuck into a girl's room and they had sex without the staff knowing and DCFS threatened to yank all their wards for good (which is not a bad idea, because it's a freaking hassle and a half dealing with DCFS kids and their slow-ass bureaucracy).

But there's a girl there--and she's not alone in this--who radiates the need to be touched. You can see it emanate from her in waves. She's crumbling inside with her desperate need for affection. She'll try to hug the staff, and with varying degrees of kindness, they'll remind her of the rule. When she approaches me, I don't have the heart to discourage her, so I let her rest her head on my shoulder, and put one arm around her to guide her back to whatever she should be doing. Her thin body pulls all the warmth from my fingertips.

I remember, way back in the days of being a camp counselor and blanketing the chapel with inspirational messages, one said that you need four hugs a day for survival, eight for maintenance, and twelve for growth. To be missing that most basic of human touches, my heart hurts for those kids.

Labels: ,


Post a Comment

<< Home

This page is powered by Blogger.
Get awesome blog templates like this one from BlogSkins.com