Day 128: I, tree hugger

Express your love through physical gestures (hugs, kisses, cuddling, giving a gentle massage).

I am a hugger. I didn’t use to be, and I didn’t see it coming, but I can’t deny the obvious: I hug my wife for no reason, at random times of the day, just to hug her.

Sometimes she gets annoyed. Sometimes she wants me to show my love in other ways — mostly by showing that I’m looking after her by doing stuff. If the dishwasher is broken, there’s not much help in hugging, is there? Sometimes she is too busy doing something else — cooking, cleaning, changing a diaper or any other things which demands a certain attention. (I know I wouldn’t like to be distracted when I’m changing an old diaper or making food I have never made before.) Sometimes she just doesn’t want to be hugged.

Usually, though, she doesn’t mind too much. (The kids, on the other hand, are ambivalent: it’s good to see mum and dad being happy together, but when their number one priority should be to play with lego or cars, not hug each other.) In fact, she usually holds on longer than I do.

Why I hug? I don’t know. It feels natural. If I don’t, something is missing, I feel a little bit lonely and sad. If I do, on the other hand, there is a sense of togetherness, of belonging, of, I don’t know, unity? It feels a lot more like a home when I can (and do) hug my wife out of the blue.

If two trees grow close enough, their branches will intertwine more and more as time goes by.

Or vice versa: if their branches don’t intertwine, they aren’t close enough.

I want to remain a hugger. I want to hug my wife when I’m old. I want to walk down the street holding hands with my wife, even though it makes the teenagers smirk.

You see, my branches are so intertwined in hers that without her support I’d fall.

You see, to hug her is to love her.

You see?

 

 

 

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