Scared to touch

As a student of Psychology, I became aware that it was important - if not vital - to touch people. I mean people who want to be touched. And there are a lot of people who want to be touched. Elderly people with no partners are the least likely to be touched in our society.

Children were the most likely. I say were because the wells of that love and affection are being systematically poisoned.

I'll tell you a little anecdote (I love anecdotes) to illustrate what I'm saying... We used to have a neighbour across the street who was a single mum to one child, a little girl. I didn't really know them, but I saw the child, S, playing outside on hot summer days. I knew her vaguely. She knew me vaguely. One day, I was walking past where the child started to run down the street. She fell.

Her mother wasn't around. But I was mother-shaped so I got the sobbing child in my arms. It was an instinctive response from both of us. Sobbing little girl and me, mother of little girl around the same age, so my arms went out as S was already diving into them.

She sobbed. I soothed and cuddled, and checked for rent knees and injured elbows. The crying gradually died away. I realised that S was ready to fly off again, and didn't need my mothering anymore. The child gave me a weak and watery smile. I smiled back, and we went our separate ways.

That was about ten years ago. The child was around six.

I wouldn't do it now. I'd be scared to let my instinct let me reach out to comfort a child in need of care. I would ache to hold a distressed baby, but I would let my arms drop to my sides.

I have lost something. A belief that I can comfort and love and give like that, and someone can benefit from that love and comfort and giving.

It's the next damaged child's loss. It diminishes me also.

The world has been deprived; our humanity is depleted.

Society cannot long retain its human core whilst the dogs of corruption gnaw at its vital organs.