I cut this photo out of the Sunday Times magazine a couple of weeks ago because I thought it was a lovely, thought-provoking image.
Snapped by Lord Snowdon, it shows a 95 year old lady sharing a dance with her carer.
What struck me immediately is the look of joy on her face. She did not care about the colour of his skin, his age or his religion, whether he is wealthy or well educated. She was just enjoying the moment.
It then made me think about how many of our elderly go for days, or even weeks without any physical contact with another human being. When my mum was in the nursing home for the final months of her life I was shocked to learn that many of the people who lived there did not get any visitors at all. No-one to stroke their hair or squeeze their hand. No-one to acknowledge that they have a purpose or even matter in the scheme of things.
Then I remembered this poem. I spotted it when we visited a beautiful garden in St Margaret's at Cliffe last year. It is so insightful that I was amazed to read that it was written by a 13 year old boy.
I think I'm feeling reflective because today is Mother's Day in the UK.