The Nature of Hugs

They say a 20 second hug a day can save your life. A person feels a physical release when they are held good and tight for at least that amount of time.  Think about it. When’s the last 20-second hug you had? It starts with a big squeeze but usually, unless you’re being hugged by a real muscly person, relaxes into a firm but gentle pressure, and you let go a little bit - a little air, a little tension, a little stress, maybe a tear. And you let something else go, something you’ve been holding onto and didn’t even realize it. How many things do you think you’ve been holding onto, absent all of those 20 second hugs? 

But remember standing, talking in the kitchen with your mom, and she said, Oh Honey and pulled you in and just held onto you, maybe rubbing your back a little bit? Remember running to the sideline to your dad, where he crouched a bit with arms wide, waiting for you to jump and catch you flying in, and as he stood, he held on, maybe twirled around a couple times? Remember that? Let something go now. 

Or maybe your sister, your brother, comes back from school/a trip/a coast, and you both grab on and sigh and speak in the others’ ear how you missed them, and what a beautiful thing, to hug your sibling after a distance or time or political opinion came between you. We can all agree that guy sucks, right? Yes. That guy super sucks, but I missed you, and let’s get home.

Or another kind, a hug at a wake, when your friend has had on her bravest face, managing to smile while she listens to stories from her late (too early to be gone) husband’s childhood, as you waited in line, knowing these people deserve their time with her even though you just want to push them aside to hug her. But finally it’s your turn and you get your arms around her and she sighs. And she whispers it’s not fair. And she shakes and you hold tighter lest she forget she’s not alone. And your shoulder is damp from tears and snot all of a sudden because she’s been holding on to so much, that grief. And she starts the release and it’s not all better, but somehow it’s a little better. Just for a minute. She’s let something go. Her brave face is back as she introduces you to his cousins, who are behind you in line. 

And sometimes, there’s a first hug, tentative, each side unsure the other is into it, but after a moment of physical contact, each recognizes the need in the other and stays. Can you just stay? A little longer. Maybe a friendship deepens (a hug like that suggests ability to confide - confidence). Maybe it leads to sex, a first hug leading to other firsts. A gateway drug of bone and sinew and skin, and while that doesn’t sound very sexy right now, in the moment you very much want more of your skin to be in contact with more of their skin. But anyway a hug like that leads to something. You’ve let someone in in the act of letting something go. 

Some people come on in with an “I’m a hugger” line, which automatically brings up walls for some. That kind of hug isn’t saving anyone. That’s a quick and get it over with hug. Yep, I see you. You’re a hugger. I’m out. 

They say it’s brain chemicals, oxy-something, that long squeezie hugs release, but chest presses to chest, your heart can feel the rhythm of their heart, their lungs expanding under your arms and against your chest; the rush of air going into their body in your ears and then you feel it on your neck a little as they exhale. They feel yours too. You’re aware of their awareness and they of yours. And maybe you drift someplace else for a few of those 20 seconds, someplace gentler and simpler, drifting together but each in their own thoughts, each feeling stronger and more vulnerable, each preparing for the moment of separation, when you meet the others’ eyes and silently ask, did you feel that too?