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The Freckle that Wouldn't Rub Off

As a kid, I never paid much attention to freckles, really. I mean, I remember my mother saying that she always knew when Spring had finally arrived because the freckles stood out on my nose. And, um, I'd read Anne of Green Gables and Anne was always bemoaning her freckles. But I guess I just never thought much about them -- not my freckles anyway.

Not until some time in my thirties when, periodically, I'd be talking to a person and that person would suddenly start to try to rub the (rather large) freckle off of my nose. It happened a number of times. "It's attached," I'd say each time, ducking and annoyed. My husband thought this was hilarious. Sometimes, he'd put his friends up to trying to rub off my 'spot.' (Actually, now that I think about it, I should probably be grateful that no one ever licked a finger first.)

Anyway, life went on and I had my first child, Ana. One night, not too long after her birth, my husband was holding her and he said, "Oh. Oh, BARB, I think she has your SPOT." I swear that there were tears in his eyes. His tone was so...reverential. I felt suddenly special –like my freckle was part of the intricate matrix of things that made my spouse love me. Sort of like this one stubborn curl I have that refuses to ever go back into my ponytail or the way I always get the best parking space, no matter where we are. I smiled at him and leaned over to look at Ana.

"That's dirt," I said, embarrassed. And I reached over and rubbed it off.

Lately, though, Ana and her little sister, Jane, really HAVE gotten freckles and now I see why my mom watched them on my own skin. I love those little freckles –just a lovely spray of them across their little noses when winter finally says its long goodbye and spring bursts forth. At night, when I do that final check that all mothers do before falling into bed, sometimes I run my fingers over those freckles and imagine which constellations would appear if I connected them with a pen.

"Those are God kisses," I tell them. "Little places where God kissed you so you’d know how special you are."

And in my mind I tell them to bite anyone who tries to rub their freckles off.

--Barb Cooper

Barb Cooper is a freelance editor, columnist and author of "The Mermaid's Purse." You can find more of her musings and purchase Barb's book at www.SoTheThingIs.com