I never knew them before. If anything I ran away from them. It must have been the fear that I would expose myself if I indulged in them. There is always an armor, you see. And a hug would have pierced it.
I was uncomfortable every time someone came too close. Was it my space, or was it my image that I was saving?
Then, there was a period of chaos. All that was familiar seemed ghostly and all that was fresh was rotten. I struggled and struggled, to fix this decay. But like blight on an old oak, this had gone deep. My strength, my calm and what felt like my life was disappearing inside me. The only thing that stood was the strong armor I had on.
One day I got a hug.
I was too tired to notice it at first. Then the warmth flowed in and then the kindness. It felt safe, not because I made it safe, but because I was held in a hug.
I knew then, I had been wrong and I needed many many more. They were warm rays of sunshine that helped life flow in me.
Now, in isolation, in a pandemic with shorter winter days, when I need it the most, it is not there again.
I miss a hug.
And I knew years without knowing what they were. And I hug my past self back and say -
"You have made it.
Good job you!
Now you can relax.
Here is a hug for you."
