Night after night,mother came to tuck me in,even long after my childhood years.Following her longstanding custom,she'd lean down and push my long hair out of the way.then kiss my forehead.

I don't remember when it first started annoying me--her hands pushing my hair that way.But it did annoy me ,for they felt work-worn and rough against my young skin.Finally,one night ,i shouted out at her,"Don't do that anymore --your hands are too much rough!"She didn't say anything in reply .But never again did my mother close out my day with that familiar expression of her love.

Time after time ,with the passing years,my thoughts returned to that night .By then i missed my mother's hands i once thought to be so rough are still doing things for me and my family. she's been our doctor ,reaching into a medicine cabinet for the ready to calm a young girl's stomach or soothe the boy's scraped knee .she cooks the best fried chicken in the world ......gets stains out of blue jeans like i never could......

Now,my own children are grown and gone.Mom no longer has Dad,an on special occassions,i find myself drawn next door to spend the night with her. So it was late on Thanksgiving Eve,as i stept in the vedroom of my youth,a familiar hand hesitantly run across my face to brush the hair from my forehead.Then a kiss ,ever so gently,touched my brow.

In my memory ,for the thousandth time, i recalled the night my young voice complained ,"Don't do that anymore---your hands are too tough!" Catching Mom's hand in hand ,i blurted out how sorry i was for that night. i thought she'd remember,as i did .But Mom didn't know what was talking about. she had forgotten---and forgiven---long ago.

That night ,i fell asleep with a new appreciation for my gentle mother and her caring hands..And the guilt that i had carried around for so long was nowhere to be found.