What's In A Hug?

Last night, after an evening indulging in our more feminine sides, my friend and I turned off the tivo’d Oprahs, said our farewells, and prepared to part ways. With a ‘thank you’ and ‘drive safe’ uttered, we embraced.

In that electrical instant, my skin seemed to scream at me. This is good. This has been awhile.

I sighed in the night air and my breath was immediately apparent in the cold. Her front door closed behind me and by the porch light, I started to reflect.

How long had it been, I wondered. Surely not too long. I mean, I made out with John* last week. Still in that moment, I realized one of life’s secrets.

Kissing is not hugging. Kissing is not holding.

And to be held. To feel another person in this world. To take them into your arms and embrace.

It’s a thousand fires right below your skin. It’s warmth in your heart and in your mind. It’s feeling tangibly secure. It’s the serenity of dark with the intensity of light. It's the lightheartedness of a laugh and the complexity of a cry. It IS the physical manifestation that someone is there to witness your life.

It’s a squeeze. It’s a clinch. It’s a clasp. It’s a snuggle.

And no matter the relationship, I’m surprised to each time feel the intimacy of it. The parent. The sibling. The friend. And when life allows (and he remembers), the boy.

Jacques Prévert said, “millions and millions of years would still not give me half enough time to describe that tiny instant of all eternity when you put your arms around me and I put my arms around you.”