They grab my hand, measuring knuckle by knuckle. They find my engagement ring and pull it up on my finger. E sometimes slides across it, squeezing each stone. L holds the whole ring and squeezes it.
An engagement ring is a talisman in our society. Publicly declared love. Commitment. Promise. It's become a talisman to my daughters, too, entirely different but holding the same meanings, just as comforting to them as a purple teddy bear or a pacifier. In darkness, in half-consciousness, they feel for the confirmation that this hand is Mommy's. With eyes closed they know it's me.
Even unto their fingertips, they know me.