I had to spend a completely beautiful 60+ degree day INSIDE AT WORK yesterday. I was not happy. I was really not happy. I think I would have been more accepting of it if today were about the same as yesterday and not 40 degrees outside. That really sucks. I guess I can’t complain too much. I’ve lived in the Midwest for most of my life more than a few years now and I should be pretty used to the drastic weather changes around here. I guess I’m used to them… but I’m sure not happy about them.
Anyway, on to the happy thought that kept me from sulking about yesterday…
I really really like hugs. From just about anyone that means anything to me a hug can be just the thing. From my mom it is an outward expression of how much I mean to her and that we really do have a great relationship. From my sister it means that we’re done with the stupid she’s-on-my-side-of-the-back-seat fights and have finally become the friends my mother always threatened we would become. From my urban family it can express that they really do embody the word family. But it’s the hugs that I share with my husband that I treasure the most. I’m considerably smaller than he is so a hug in his arms is all encompassing. I feel safe and warm. It is the most reassuring thing for me. If I’ve had a bad day a hug is an instant fix. It it a wordless way to reconnect with someone. And one that I really love.