I'm learning how to hug

My soon-to-be sixteen year old daughter asked for a hug yesterday.

Hugging is not easy for me, especially if the person who wants to be hugged is as tall/taller than me.

I remember having to hug as a child -- it always felt forced... like something I did NOT want to do.

I don't know if I'm supposed to be grabbing (wrestling) or bracing (protecting).

I don't know how to react when there's a forced invasion of my personal space. 

So, I typically stand, in my imaginary bubble, hoping people won't want to hug or touch the body that screams "NO!".

I typically pretend I don't see the signs of an on-coming hug from someone as tall or taller than me.

I typically make myself suddenly far too distracted... far too busy.

But my daughter (my flesh and bones... and extended personality) wanted a hug.

She wanted to be close.

She wanted reassuring affectionate contact and comfort from the one she loved.

I froze.

I didn't know what to do.  [If you know the hugging scene in the movie Step Brothers, you would know what I mean.  I go into a hug, using not my arms, but my shoulders and head.]

My daughter told me she would put her arms down, and not put them around me, if I would wrap my arms around her, and pull her close.

I had to be told what to do.... by my once little baby girl.  [God bless her loving soul.]

I started to freeze and freak.

But I looked at her face.  I saw her gentle patient eyes looking back, and it felt like ghosts of a sweeter yesteryear were going through me. ["Mommy, is that you?"]

...Like the first time I nursed her and looked in her eyes, she gave me that look...  the look that pierces and unfreezes a stoic heart begging to breathe.

I stopped mid-freeze and realized what it was she really needed from me... the mommy she really loves.

She needed safe touch... the sort of touch that tells her all is still good.

Before I moved, I had a sad thought about this otherwise simple and easy display of comfort and affection:  If it did not come from me, then it would come from someone else.  (We all crave safe reassuring touch... don't we?)

I hugged my little girl, the one who is now taller than me.  I hugged, and didn't totally freak and freeze.  I hugged, then I gave a big squeeze.

We parted ways, like the human islands we are... and she bragged to her brother.   She sing-songed, "Mom gave me a huuuuug."

I stood and felt changed and very different.   I pretended to cook, like the world didn't move and shift around me.

I admitted to myself, I hugged, and it almost felt good.  Yes...I hugged...it felt good... and it all felt so sincere.

A triumph, on the solitary island, I call Me.

<long deep breath, remembering it, too>

A meaningful hug, from and for little ol' me, to the phantom "you"... the one who truly loves.

Yes, that simple complex human touch... it CAN feel good.