So, team "hug" is not an acronym but is is aka Team huh ugh! For the most part that is because our job is to identify and correct the kind of stupidity that brings on those exclamations. That's the point. That's all we do. Hugs.
You are hug-tastic, and there is no finer praise. The love you give is free and that makes it priceless.
There is an energy to the hug, as if the matter of one powered up the other.
In the heat of your lovers hug there are welding sparks.
Your hug has woven our souls in a way that is a forever bond. I hope that was your intention, because this is real.
There is the hug of gentle arms that still gives the space to breathe; then there is the hug of strong arms that tells everything that your are - body, brain and soul - that they are with you. I love both, the duvets and the human shields, each has their time.
We are born to flow, to feel our love and that around us become as an river in the ether. And in these hugs, these moments of togetherness, we are at the centre of our own divine vortex.
Your hug is stronger than anything I've ever known, as if holding me wasn't quite enough, you have to feel every ounce that I am press into every ounce that is you. In that moment of feeling you so close I am awake somehow, more alive than I have been in so very long. For there are times I am as a butterfly who yearns for the cocoon, to be safe within walls, protected. That's what I feel. It helps. So if it would be okay, if it's what you want too, wrap those arms around me every chance the universe is kind enough to bring. For in this world, this is our gold, our food and pure rain... it is the love that makes everything else possible.
Trina snuggled in, "You're the only person I know that gives indefinite hugs."
Her mom snickered, "Well, love, where else would I rather be?" In that moment the arms squeezed a fraction tighter and Trina breathed more slowly, her body melting into her mom's as every muscle lost its tension to the spring air. This was life, real life.
In her embrace the world stopped still on its axis. There was no time, no wind, no rain. Evelyn's mind was at peace. How could it be that she hadn't seen Clara's love for what it was before? Pure. Unselfish. Undemanding. Free. She felt her body press in, soft and warm. This was the love she'd waited for, prayed for. She inwardly thanked God and hugged all the tighter. A love like this was to be cherished for life. Finally, she was home.
Jen had been hugged before, but never like this since her mother passed. There was something so warm, something that felt right, smelt right. She let her body sag, her muscles become loose. He gave her the respect of an equal but cradled her like a cherished child. In that embrace she felt her worries loose their keen sting and her optimism raise its head from the dirt. Perhaps the hope had been there all along, but without some love it was trapped, like crystals in a stone. She felt him brush her hair back with his piano player fingers and kiss her gently...
On the seat in front sits a woman and child, the kid relaxes into her arms so fully it's like they are one organism, melted together. He has a look of contentment on his face, the kind I wish I could wear. He has everything he wants in life right there, bouncing up and down on this rickety bus with him. The view from the window disappears behind a swirl of dry mud, raised up in the vortexes revealed by the red-brown particles. The woman reaches up and pulls the skinny window closed. Now that her son is drifting into sleep her face has become grave. Without his timid gaze she has no reason to feign nonchalance.