Arms outstretched, I lean in. The warm familiarity engulfs me. I hold tight for just a little longer, as if doing so will transfer all my love directly into their heart. As we part, a smile bubbles up from my chest bursting out from the corners of my mouth. “Drive safe. See you next year!” they joke, as if “next year” isn’t a week away. I muster an obligatory chuckle. If I knew then, what I know now, I would have held on for longer, leaned in a little harder, really soaked it in.
That moment has sustained me for nearly a year; but as the anniversary
of that last hug from mom and dad draws nearer, its gravity starts to diminish.
An emptiness starts to fill the void. I panic as I imagine never getting to hug
them again. If in less than a year, that magic starts to fade I shutter at the
thought of…
I know, I know. I am being dramatic; but the reality is being apart from
loved ones is hard.
As another round of holidays barrel towards us in the time of Covid, I
am reminded of our mortality, and of how little control we really have over our
lives. I am reminded not to take moments (and hugs) for granted. While I'm
hopeful that my parents and I will get a hug (or two) in in 2021, as mere
mortals we never truly know which hug will be our last. So, when it is once
again safe to give out hugs, watch out world, as I intend to hold
them for an uncomfortable length of time!
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| Circa Sept 2019 |
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