She appeared to be self-conscious of her height the way she hunched over as she walked around the landfill convenience center helping others with their trash. The loud colors of her jacket magnifying the posture she so desperately tried to hide. I had noticed her before but was never in close enough proximity to ask her for a hug, perhaps today would be the day.
Unwilling to hold up the line behind me of other drivers waiting patiently to offload the odorous bags in the back of their SUVs, I backed my own SUV (who I affectionately called Sally) into the lane farthest from the androgynous employee I hoped to hug. Before I reached the back of Sally, a familiar employee had already lifted her tailgate and was throwing the first of two bags of trash into the dumpster. Relief flooded through me as he turned back and grabbed the second one. I regularly overfill my trash bags in ways that causes holes to be punctured in them. I never know what might be spilling out of those holes and now I wouldn't have to find out. My clothes could remain fresh and clean. At this point, I had been hugging people that I encountered daily for about two months as part of My Year of Hugs journey. The burly employee with the massive beard that helped me had been a regular recipient of those hugs and today was no exception. His joy was palpable and his laughter contagious despite the fat cigar hanging from his mouth that competed with the stench of the trash surrounding us. Turning back toward Sally, I noticed the employee I hoped to hug walking toward me. Was she headed my way because she knew I would hug her or was it coincidence? It didn't matter. I timidly walked up to her, willing her hanging head to lift just enough for me to see her face when I asked her for a hug. She had an Eeyore quality that magnified my desire to offer her love. She gracefully accepted my request for a hug and leaned in with a one-armed embrace. I typically found this type of hug awkward and uncomfortable, but she pressed her upper body against mine and found a way to envelop me without needing the contact of her right arm. The warmth of her spirit flowed in to me. I felt grateful for the time she gifted me. Feeling slightly less rushed despite the growing line of cars behind me, I ambled back to the front of my car and slid behind the wheel of my SUV. Before I shut the door I overheard something that stopped me in my tracks. "That was the first hug I've received in a long time." There was only joy emanating from that sentence but it washed over me in waves of conflicting emotion. Gratitude for being the person that offered the hug. Despair that she wasn't receiving more. Shame at my privilege for having ample opportunity for daily hugs from my family that I completely took for granted. Tears welled up and fell down my face as I pulled away. In that moment, my desire for hugs for everyone intensified but it would still take another 10 years before I recognized that the root of my desire was for connection and belonging for myself.
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AuthorMelinda Lee is a mom of two adolescent boys, a devout student of all things spiritual, a recovering perfectionist, and immensely fascinated with achieving the unachievable. Currently writing a memoir about hugging strangers. Archives
February 2023
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