I know it seems strange that the prompt for Wicked Wednesday is ‘hugging’ in a time like the one we are living in. Prompts are set weeks before, but thinking of it, maybe it’s a good thing we talk about hugging in a time where we are avoiding it; a time where we don’t even give each other a hand anymore.
There are so many reasons to hug – as a greeting, as a form of love, to give comfort – but I think in the end it always boils down to love and affection. Whether you hug your mom, your child, your life partner or just a friend, it all comes from positive feelings, as none of us will just hug a random stranger. Or rather, I know I won’t. I love the physical contact. I hug my husband, a lot. My children, my grandchildren, my friends. When we were in London I hugged many people there, people I enjoy spending time with, people who I do have some kind of affection for, even though we see each other only once a year, and might not interact on social media for weeks on end.
I don’t only love the physical contact, I need it. It feeds the empath in me; it helps to channel the overwhelming feelings of affection I have inside, feelings that sometimes are so big, that they bring tears to my eyes. Happy tears.
He laughs and run away, knowing me well enough by now to see what’s coming. This is our game, our thing, something both of us enjoy, and both of us know how it will end.
“I believe someone owes me a hug.”
“Nooooo,” he laughs and run to the other corner of the room.
Now sometimes I keep on chasing him, other times I sit down and wait for him to come closer. It always ends the same, as I finally grab him and lift him into my arms.
“Now I have you, and you know what oma* wants, right?”
I don’t wait for an answer, while he laughs and wriggles in my arms.
“A great big hug.”
“Noooooooooo,” he says and giggles, “noooooooo.”
“Whaaaat? You don’t want to give me a hug?”
“Then I will just steal one from you,” I say and while he giggles I hug him tightly to me before lowering him to the floor again. Sometimes he then hugs me around my legs, other times he just turns his attention to something else. And, if I don’t play this game with him, it will take him less than half an hour to remind me: “oma, I think you forgot something!”
(Master T is not one for emotions, which doesn’t mean he doesn’t have them, but for him death is just part of life, and he never sheds a tear about things that can’t be changed, but he understand that I am a very emotional person, and will never deny me my emotions. He’s my rock, in more ways than one.)
Mostly both my grandsons come downstairs to say hello and where I do play the hugging game with the youngest, I approach the oldest in a different way. He has autism and when he was younger I noticed that he didn’t like me ‘stealing’ hugs from him. So what I do now when I get there and they come to greet me, is to give him a kiss (he has been taught that this is the way to greet oma) and then I ask him if I may have a hug. He almost never declines, but if he does, I let it go.
One of the last times when I was there, and I called upstairs, he came downstairs and said: “Oma, I missed you so much.”
I will never stop hugging**.
* Oma is Dutch for grandmother.
** Of course (for those in doubt of my sanity) in the time we live in now, with the corona virus, I obviously don’t hug anyone but my husband, and even that I am doing less since I have a cold, and am into my second week of it.
Image by Roy Buri from Pixabay
© Rebel’s Notes