Hugs

 "Grief is finding the person that you can't live without - and then living without them"  (Random FaceBook popup)

Went to the dentist today.  No big deal, just a cleaning and then schedule to get a crown replaced.  Except that it was sort of a big deal, because once again I can't help but remember how it used to be.  Nostalgia for going to the dentist?

Like everything else, it was about a 45 minute drive.  I openly love my land, love living out here, love my woods (I'm sitting on the back deck as I write, looking at the woods and being distracted by hummingbirds coming to feed).  But it does mean that *everything* is a minimum half-hour drive away.

In Ye Olde Dayes (meaning before 2020), it would go like this: In the name of efficiency, we would schedule our dental cleanings for the same time.  Bob would drive, I would usually knit.  We'd chat, random conversation, maybe make some plans.  Listen to the radio.  For some songs, he'd play a riff with his fingers at a favorite spot.  Sometimes we'd sing along (Bohemian Rhapsody).  If "I Need a Lover Who Won't Drive Me Crazy" (strange song to have for Our Song but there you have it) we'd sing along and keep poking at each other.  Bob's cleaning always took a lot longer than mine because he always got his favorite hygienist and they'd chat, so I'd be finished and sitting back in the waiting room, listening to the sound of his voice and his laugh (and thinking that he really needed to just let her work on his mouth).  We might go to a hobby shop or run some errands, and have lunch together.

2022 - I drive there by myself.  These days, not even magazines to thumb through (doctor and dentist appointments are the only times I ever read women's magazines) but I have a book on my phone. I went grocery shopping afterwards and then treated myself to lunch at a small Vietnamese place - with my book.

Just not the same.

But that's not what I'm writing about today.  I'm writing about hugs.

There are huggy people in the world, and non-huggy people.  I've always been a hugger.  I'm just, in general, a very tactile person.  That's possibly why I'm a spinning-I like the feel of the fiber feeding through my fingers.  I remember one day, years ago, when I had had a bad day at work, and Bob picked me up and said "would you like to go to the sewing store and pat the fabric?"  Bob and I never walked past each other without at least a pat on the shoulder.  It was a common thing to grab a quick hug in the aisle of the grocery store.  And I hugged my friends.  I'm just one of those.

And all that came to a screeching halt come Covid and losing Bob.  No  more being held and cuddled and loved on a regular basis, but also no crying on anyone's shoulder.  No casual quick hugs.  No human touch.

That really threw me.  I went a little bonkers.  When I went to get my flu and Covid shots I would turn my head away from the tech.  I appeared to be out of courtesy - but it was really so they couldn't see my face.  I would close my eyes and concentrate on the feel of their fingers on my arm, holding on to that sensation.  Thank God for the cats - at least I had something alive that I could hold.  But they're a little small - hard to wrap my arms around them (although I do).  Once or twice at the museum if I was cleaning the deer habitat and no one was around and the deer was feeling cooperative I would slide my arms around them, resting my cheek on their neck, and just feel the warmth and the breathing and the heartbeat.

Sometimes before going to bed I would put my spare pillow in the dryer for a few minutes so I could hold something warm.

But after a year or so I got used to it.  The urge to touch anyone just went away.  Without thinking I would step back if anyone stepped into that 6-foot bubble.  Human contact now belonged in the past.

I sometimes wondered what would happen if the Covid numbers dropped and it would be safe to hug again.  Would I want to?  Was the old huggy Ann still in there somewhere?  Would it be too overwhelming?  Would some sort of repressed floodgates open up to an emotional breakdown if an arm went around my shoulders?  Would I have become one of those people who stiffen up and pull away when someone hugs them?    

It was with great relief that I found that the Old Ann was still there.  The Covid numbers are currently down in the safe zone.  There was a volunteer appreciation party at the Museum; I saw people I hadn't see for awhile - and we hugged.  I looked at the door and one of our new volunteers was standing there, looking a little nervous - he had expected to see only familiar people there, and was a little unsettled to find that it was mostly people in the 60+ age group (board members and people who help out during the annual Market Days).  I made my way over to him to assure him he was in the right place, and got a hug.  Later on, one of the other "kids" came over to where I was standing outside and gave me a mock shoulder-shove and we pushed each other back and forth for a bit, laughing.  One of the animal keepers who gets quite affectionate when she's had a couple of margaritas gave me a full-on squeezing hug.

The grand thing is - it all felt natural.  No drama, no breakdown, just some affection.  Natural, and very very good.  Nice to know that part of me didn't change.