I’m sorry I didn’t hug you when I had the chance.
I’m not a hugger. It is a well-known fact. I have been taunted on TV about it, I have written about it, and I have been photographed in compromising hug situations. But now, since I cannot hug you all of you, a part of me actually wants to hug all of you.
After a few days into social distancing and self-imposed quarantine passed, I have realized a few things. Such realizations include:
I really like eating out in restaurants.
I enjoy crowds of people, especially crowds of children and friends.
I like talking to strangers about random things.
I like in-person meetings.
I like hearty handshakes.
And maybe it’s all the sugar and booze talking, but I miss people trying to hug me. I miss the banter of “I know you don’t like hugs, but this is happening anyway.” I miss hearing the laughs of my friends when a new person approaches me and comes in for a hug. I miss it all. Even the hugs.
I surely hope my longing for hugs isn’t one of the seven seals of the apocalypse. Again, it might just be my brain turning into a container of children’s aged slime, but I truly think it is more than that.
When this is all said and done, I don’t think we will ever take anything for granted anymore. And for me, that includes the persistent, uncomfortable hugs that those who love me force upon me.
I will welcome you will open arms.