I cut myself yesterday at a party. My daughter came over and blotted my sliced knee with a paper towel, dabbing gently. It was very dear.
We asked the hostess if she had any bandaids. She came back with them along with some antibacterial cream. As she dabbed at my cuts, I thanked her for tending my wounds.
She said, “Hey. We have to do that for one another, us humans.”
It’s true. I’m so used to tending to my own wounds or those of others, I forget to allow someone to take care of mine.
It felt good to let that happen. It felt good to allow someone to care for me.