Hugs
The tears roll down her face. Right now, her grazed knee hurts like nothing else. Not exactly silently, she sits in the playground, screaming like the five-year-old she is.
Then her mother appears, worry written across her face. Quickly, she gathers her up in her arms, and carries her away.
Slowly, the tears stop, and she calms, anchored by the strong warm arms around her.
Their favourite - bad - joke is told for the millionth time. Still they laugh. Under the starlight, late in the evening, at the end of a weekend, the end of a year. For a second they sit in silence, and she watches her friend, watching the stars above them. Looking at each other again, they laugh again.
Later, they make a pact - be there for each other, forever. Sealed with a hug, comfortable and safe.
She comes running, in more pain than she can ever remember feeling. He left her; dropped like a discarded toy, left alone.
Soon, the words run dry, so do the tears. There’s nothing left but her friend’s arms, tight around her. Another thought washes over her, and the tears threaten again. But the arms around her don’t move, like an unflinching barrier against everything.
Half time: the score does not reflect well. But enough is enough. The tables will be turned. Words are spoken fiercely, almost desperately, and together they link arms, locked in a bond, with the potential to make history.
They yell, coarse sounds from their throats; battle cries. With arms on shoulders, the sound becomes formidable, unsettling even the spectators.
Forty-five minutes later, the roars are even louder than before.
The bus ride was turning out to be more fun than, in all honesty, it should have been. But with that music in her ears, and that person sitting next to her, she lets it slide.
Suddenly, he as his arms around her, and she has her around him. She’s caught off guard, but he doesn’t move, and neither does she.
She finds herself thinking that maybe it’s worth a chance.
The end is drawing near, and she can’t stand it. The structure of her life is about to fall apart. Sitting with her head in her hands, she tries to see a way out.
Her dog appears behind her, and insists on sitting next to her. She folds an arm around her furry companion, looking into her face. The same loving devotion can be seen in her pets’s eyes, and suddenly the end doesn’t seem so bad.
The basis of offhanded threats made years ago has finally become reality. She’s flown halfway around the world, no hesitations in her mind.
A face that feels familiar appears, yet in truth she’s never seen him before. It doesn’t seem to matter.
She drops her bags, and awkwardly, goes to hug him. The second of apprehension vanishes, and they laugh like old friends. ‘It’s about time,’ he says quietly.
She has waited for this moment for - she pauses to think - years. Now, standing where she does, she really can’t believe it.
The woman opposite her offers her hand, and a charming, friendly smile. ‘Nice to meet you,’
Words have left her. Not surprisingly.
She goes to accept his hand but before she can think she has her in his arms. With that, everything else is forgotten - the bitterly cold weather, her shock, anxiety, eternity.
All she can do is hug her back.
She’s met him before. A friend of a friend. He’s always been a nice person, but she was too preoccupied to notice.
Shame, really.
She’s going away soon. He comes to see her and her friends off. Then he wraps his arms around her. It’s not like before, like when her mother’s hugs are protective, or when her friends’s hugs are simply a touch on the back, not wanting to convey any emotion for fear of something that she doesn’t quite understand. No, this one, with his arms locked more tightly around her than she expected is safety and compassion understanding and care.
She tells him so, soon after. She won’t discover the consequences of doing so until months later.
She has come age in her father’s eyes - it is time.
He has a surprise for her. He leads her, blindfolded, outside. Following his instructions, she removes it. In front of her sits a glittering red machine, something she has wanted forever.
To her left stands her father, keys dangling from his index finger. She gasps, and slowly, she sees her father for what he truly is: a compassionate, sweet, loving, beautiful man.
She gathers him up in her arms. The car can wait.
Years, years later. A young boy runs down the hallway to his mother, adamant that she see his crayon-constructed masterpiece. He smiles gleefully, proud of himself.
It’s a picture of him and her, holding hands, under yellow sunlight. She adores it.
She takes him in her arms, picks him up. He squeals gleefully and she laughs. She hugs him tight, loves him with all her heart.