The Daily Prompt read, Textures are everywhere: The rough edges of a stone wall. The smooth innocence of a baby’s cheek. The sense of touch brings back memories for us. What texture is particularly evocative to you?

Oh, the joys of bubble wrap!

Touch and texture are woven into the very fabric of our lives. God’s beautiful creation offers a plethora of things to touch and taste and see.

Before I saw this post this morning, I was watching baby videos of my granddaughter, who is now 5. We captured her touching anything new and different with delight. She would put her pudgy little finger on a frog and giggle, pet the cat (while the cat tried frantically to get away) and there is one where she appears to shiver when she touches a furry stuffed animal for the first time.

When I think back on my life, my mind is flooded with images of textures that still evoke emotion. There are memories tied to events and people and I stand in awe once again at the way God made us and the senses he gave us.

With both of my grandfathers, I remember lots of warm hugs and a little stubble when I pressed my cheek next to theirs. It was scratchy, yet comforting in some strange way. Their hands were worn with years of hard work, but not too worn to hold mine. I remember when Granny Byrd taught me to work in her flower beds and my love for having the cool earth in my bare hands was born.

Sitting in the lap of Granny Goff, I remember being amazed at the pages of her bible, so thin they seemed almost transparent, yet strong enough to last years of her reading daily. Her elderly hands displayed bulging veins which I would find great amusement in pressing until she would laugh and tell me to quit.

During church, I would play with my Aunt Terrie’s long, beautiful fingernails and she was always so patient with me about it. When I would go to visit Aunt Alice, our favorite place to be was the beach, with our toes in the gritty, warm sand.

I smile thinking about the texture of mom’s fine, curly hair; she never like us to mess with it once she got it just so. Of course, we did anyway. Thinking of Dad reminds me of the wind on my face as we returned from an island camping trip in the boat.

My husband has held me close and his touch has been a source of comfort throughout the years. Thinking of our daughters elicits memories of cookie dough and jello and ice cream. Some of the textures I was confronted with weren’t so pleasant but still bring a smile! There were days at the kitchen table with paper, glue and lots of glitter! The best memories were their little hands in mine. In the beginning they were slobbery little hands but I didn’t care; it was when they no longer needed to hold my hand that I knew things were changing.

Yes, our sense of touch is precious and my life has been touched this morning by going down memory lane. As I reach out and wrap my hand around my warm cup of coffee, I am reminded how precious every moment is once again