the kind of hugs

There’s the kind of hugs that a toddler gives, the little humans who barrel down the hall at the sound of the front door opening. The hugs that hit you full force, mid-leg; you cannot move or reciprocate but only take in all that day-long, pent-up love, because as quickly as it started the squeezer hug is over and the little human toddles away, satiated.

There’s the kind of hugs that happen at airports, the goodbye ones that you try not to fill with anxiety or sorrow, the ones you try to imprint with every ounce of your love, enough, at least, until ‘next time’. There’s the kind that are ‘hello’, ‘welcome home’, ‘my gosh I have missed you, don’t ever go away again’. There’s the ones where you share the vulnerability of being apart.

There’s the kind of hug that says ‘I do’ even when there’s no piece of paper from City Hall or a church or any witnesses, the kind that binds two hearts forever. There’s the kind that says, ‘I’m sorry, I thought we’d make it, I loved our time together, goodbye.’

There’s the kind of hug that says everything when words fail you. The ones that are offered to try to alleviate unbearable sadness, grief, loss. There’s the kind of hug you give someone, so they know they’re not alone in life, in struggles, in death.

There’s the hugs you squandered when you thought they came in an endless supply. The ones from someone who is now out of reach.

(thank you to Firefly Creative Writing for the morning coffee session prompts this week and Shari and Mike Photograph in Vancouver for the photo of a sibling pre-wedding hug)

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