Ear Lobes

There are times when I am thinking about a post for this blog I wonder and I worry if it is too much. That you will think I am playing up your sympathy. Like this post. It is not my intention. There are times I am compelled to write certain things. Today, I am writing about being at the hospital with Peyton, actually with Peyton's earthly house, because "Peyton" was not there. Here goes.

Last night I was with a friend and we were talking about some of Peyton's things. His chaps had some blood on them. She turned to me and asked, "was he bad?" I knew what she meant, "did he look bad, were his injuries visible?" I said no, there was a tube in him and it dripped some blood, but to look at him you would think there was nothing wrong.

Tom & I walked into the room where he was. We stood over him and it was so obvious that Peyton was not there. That is a good thing. We stayed for a few minutes. I touched his hands. I love Peyton's hands. They showed how much he was living. I kissed his forehead and then I rubbed his earlobe between my thumb and index finger. The earlobe thing is something I did to both Peyton & Tom. I still do it to Tom. He's going to love that I am telling that. I don't remember when I started doing it, but as Peyton grew up, that became the only soft part on him. You know boys are rough and tumble with callouses and scars everywhere. Maybe his earlobe reminded me of his baby days, when he was soft and cuddley. Usually he would let me, sometimes he would give me the "oh mom!" I miss it.