Monday, August 3, 2009

I shouldn't have been afraid...

of hugs. 

Family get togethers were always hard for me as a little girl.  The minute we'd pull up in one of my uncles' driveways, I'd start to feel anxious.  Because of the hugs.  My mom knew how to hug me tightly to make me feel somewhat safe..but my other a-relatives didn't.  They'd give me the obligatory pat on the back and send me on my way.  I hated the initial walk through the door, waiting for the hugs to be over so I could go play with my cousins and sister.   What made it worse was watching them hug and kiss my other cousins so freely...yes...I was, and possibly still am, jealous.

Now though, I know what it feels like to walk into a room and receive "real" affection...feeling deeply connected and immensely peaceful.  I know what it's like to be enveloped into my mother's aunts and uncle..and my grandfather. 

Part of me is just so happy that I finally know what it's like to be "part" of something...part of a family that I look like and who have the same quirky sense of humor that I do...that question authority with glee and reckless abandon.

But there's this part of me that is terribly sad too.  Sad that I missed out on 34 years with "my people".  It hurts. 

Some days I really miss the fog.

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