I enjoy a genuine hug.
Where the person pulls you in tight and holds you not only in their arms but in their heart. For that brief moment that you are encircled in each other’s arms, all is right with the world. The safety and emotional support that is felt in that time carries me through many a rough time.
Usually the person in my life that is able to give me a hug which will fill up the space inside my soul that is aching is my mom. She can understand me when I don’t want to talk (hard to believe I know) but just desires to be encircled. Everyday of high school I would come home to my mother’s arms. When I moved to Tampa for my senior year of high school to be met with prejudice, clicks and provincial snobs there was my mom to make it all better. Even when I went to college for my freshman year I remember the feeling of the beginning of her hug on the doorstep to my dorm and the release into adulthood. Her hugs tell the time in my life. Each step of the way she is there to hold me.
Now that I live across the country from her just hearing her voice helps me to remember the daily hugs I used to receive. But I will always need my mother’s hug.
This past 4th of July was a rough time for my sister-in-law and her family. Her eldest brother was in a severe motorcycle accident the night before that left him in a coma. His accident affected me very hard. I had seen him hours before he crashed never thinking that it would be the last time. The culmination of not being with my family on a holiday and the accident had me in a state of need. I really needed a hug from my mom on that day.
Mrs. S. has been a friend of the family for many years. My oldest brother has been friends with her son since high school. Through their friendship our parents have become friends as well. I vaguely remember receiving hugs from her each time we met in the years past but this 4th of July was different. It was like she had channeled all of my mom into her two arms that gathered me up and held me for a brief moment after the fireworks had been lit. It was the natural feel of a mother’s arms lifting up a child that formed a ball in my throat that I couldn’t swallow. She looked me in the eyes after our hug and I felt it again. Even though she had let go I could still feel it.
Thank you Mrs. S. for being open to letting my mom give me a hug through you.