A friend of mine from college recently tagged me in a picture on facebook of her little girl wearing a onesie that I bought two years ago for her little boy (she loves it that much she saved it, sweet!) that says: “I (insert heart here) Hugs”.
I remember when I bought it I thought, “I wish I could buy this onesie in my size!” Not, “I wish I had a t-shirt with this on it” no no no, only the onesie for me would do. Of course, that has nothing to do with my story.
This past Sunday I had a chat with a friend on the subway (side fact: long subway rides in Korea would be so much more conducive to deep conversations if I wasn’t constantly worried about getting “shhed” or stared glared at for speaking English) about that very same topic: I LOVE HUGS.
I have started to keep a Writer’s Notebook just like my students to show them their teacher is a writer too. Today while my kiddies were in Music and/or Korean class I took out my pencil to write, and the first thing that popped in my head: hugs. This is what I wrote:
Hugs. There is something about them. When your arms are around someone it is like you are holding onto something much more than a person. You are holding onto life, love, and compassion. I hug to feel refreshed, rejuvenated, and to let people know I am here for them. After a really good hug I feel like I could tackle World Hunger and find a way to create World Peace!
I love to get them. I love to give them. If I ever give you crap (sidenote: I obviously wouldn’t read that word aloud to my students if I happen to share from my notebook) about giving me a one-armed-hug, or a pat-on-the-back-while-holding-your-body-semi-close-to-me-hug… well, it is only because I live and breathe and survive off of hugs (slight exaggerating, I obviously live and breathe and survive because of God, and my love for him. obviously).
I am trying to be more understanding of people who are not as into hugs as I am. It is hard. I am working on it. I never like to give a hug halfway. If I am in a rush and give a halfer (just came up with that little nickname for a sloppy hug) I feel bad afterwards, actually I feel guilty. Haha, odd.
I remember coming home after living abroad for five months and one of my sisters came up to me and said: “Give me a hug!” I looked at her confused, she hated it when people touched her (which made me very, very sad). “No really… I like them now,” she smiled holding out her arms. It was probably the best present she could have ever given me in the ENTIRE WORLD.
And there you have it. I like hugs. I might hug you one day. You never know.