Tuesday, February 22, 2011


When I was a little girl my mom told me that using body cream was very important. I don't remember how old I was; I must have been six or seven. I have a clear memory of watching her slather it on her legs, then hold the open jar in front of me so that I would do the same. Putting on cream is something I do every day right after I get out of the shower. All these years I've never questioned if I need to do it or if my skin is dry. It's automatic, like brushing my teeth or pulling the sheets up over my ears.

It was my father who taught me the importance of drying my feet thoroughly and running the corner of the bath towel back and forth between my toes after every shower. I remember him declaring, in that inarguable way of his, that water between my toes was bad for me. (He explained it could cause the skin to split, which to this day makes me wince). When I get out of the shower, I indeed take the corner of the towel and run it back and forth between each toe (somewhat obsessively - I wonder where that came from?), even when I'm in a mad hurry. I can guarantee it: no residue of humidity on my feet, ever.

It's odd, the bits of programming our parents leave in us. 

It occurred to me recently that these two rituals ensure I start each day with the omnipresence of the two people who love me most in the world.

A gift of deep caring, all wrapped and handed to me every morning before I even make it out of my house, and I only just realized it. 

And you wonder why I'm grateful.



iz said...

no había leído esto, dush. me encantó!

además, creo que no sólo adquirimos estas cosas de nuestros papás, también de amigos o hermanos o personajes de ficción. un día escribiré un post sobre esto.

te quiero <3

Guilie said...

Brilliant. We are a breathing and walking collection of bits of others' souls. How beautiful is that? Thanks for contributing to my collection, Dushka.