I can't recall how many years ago I read that. They made a film of it - dismal is the description that comes to mind.
Another clue:
I did find that this is the first line of Portnoy's Complaint:
She was so deeply embedded in my consciouness, that for my first year of shool I seem to have believed each of my teachers was my mother in disquise."
Portnoy's Complaint- - Philip Roth
It sounds more like Portnoy than the other to me.
I don't remember my mother ever kissing a hurt to make it better, but thinking about this made me remember...
I was probably only six or so and my throat was closing. I was lying on the back seat of Uncle Ed's '49 Plymouth with my head cradled in my mother's lap. I remember seeing the street lights go by the windows. I remember us being sent from Chelsea Memorial into Children's because Chelsea didn't have the necessary equipment. I remember the cops stopping us and then escorting us in, blue light spinning.
Most of all I remember looking up into my mother's eyes. She must have spoken to me, but I don't recall anything she said. But her eyes told me
...this is serious
...I'm scared and I know you are
...I'm here
It didn't make the strangulating feeling go away, but it kept me calm and comforted.
What a good story, George. Calm and comfort.....
Thank you.
