Descriptive Essay About My Kissing Hand

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~My Kissing Hand~

In my palm, I hold the love. I squeeze the love. I feel the love. I love the love. Cherishing my possession, I press my palm to my fiery, blotchy cheek, and I remember that the love is always with me. Inside of my young hand, warmth radiates through the rest of my body as I hold it to my face. I recall what my mommy has told me hundreds and hundreds of times, “‘Mommy loves you. Mommy loves you.’” I wipe away the salty tears; I wipe away my fears. Breathe Justina, just breathe. It will be okay. You will be okay. Mommy’s love is with you. I have a kissing hand. My kissing hand has unlimited amounts of kisses stored inside. It holds a magic kiss from mommy; the kiss that will stay there forever, and with it’s …show more content…

So, she gave me a magic smooch in the palm of my hand as we stood outside my daddy’s house-- what used to be our house, where we all lived together. She wrapped my fingers, tight and firm, around her kiss to ensure it’s safety inside of me. Teasingly, Mommy whispered to me, “‘Now, do be careful not to lose it,’” just like Chester’s Mommy said to him. At first, I was concerned because thought that I might actually lose Mommy’s magic kiss, but she assured me that it would never leave my hand, and it would be with me for the rest of my …show more content…

So the thoughts began to infest my brain. Mommy isn’t here. I miss Mommy. I won’t get to see her for six more days. Oh no. Don’t cry. It’s okay. Just breathe, Justina. Calm down. You don’t need her all of the time. You are here to have fun with Grandma and Grandpa and Daddy. But that little mental pep talk didn’t seem to help keep the hot tears from streaming down my face and making my pillow wet. Then I remembered: my kissing hand. I placed my palm against my cheek, as I had done many times before, and Mommy’s love was emanated throughout my body. “Mommy loves you. Mommy loves you,” I thought to myself. Soon the tears disappeared and I fell fast asleep, knowing that Mommy’s love was always with me.
Laying in bed and thinking back to last night, the memories flood back to me, but I fight back the tears. Quickly, I resolve the problem with my kissing hand, almost as pure instinct. Why do I have to sad? I don’t. Mommy loves me.

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