I had spent the previous weekend banking hugs from all my people in Denver. I might just pause here for a moment to try and count all the people I hugged and then multiply that for hellos and goodbyes. So wonderful. Monday the rains arrived in the Bay (and would stay all week). Work can be a quiet place for me as many of my co-workers are remote. And I don't have a nice kitty or dog to come home to. My violet has been giving me the cold shoulder lately.
I was enjoying the rainy day. It was a chance to wear my fun, splashy, kiddo feeling rain boots. But, there was a lingering pang of the space left from being 1/3 of the country away from the laughter and affection of CO.
Right outside the downtown BART station, I noticed a young woman who looked clean and quite normal at first glance. She was lovely. Standing just under the overhang of a bank on the corner of a big intersection where groups of people stop at to wait for the light about a block from the train station. She wasn't grinning or even necessarily inviting. She had the expression of waiting in a state of availability.
She was holding a cardboard sign that said "Free Hug." I stopped to wait for the light but was intrigued by this humanity offering. I mean isn't that kind of what a hug is? An expression of caring that recognizes the value of another person and their very humanity. I turned to look at her. She didn't say anything. Pause. I said, "Won't we get all wet?" She dropped her sign to reveal a very dry jacket underneath. "But, I'm dry," she replied. "Oh, okay."
She was a good hugger. She reached out her arms slowly and closed them around me in the same manner. It wasn't a "hello" or a "goodbye" hug. It wasn't a "I haven't seen you in a long time" hug or a "wave just won't do" or an upgrade from a handshake. It was an "I'm so excited to see you" hug. It was a hug that savored the humanity of another. A hug for the sake of engaging in another person.
"Thank you," I said. "Have a great evening." As I walked away I heard another girl cry out, "I want a free hug!" I could feel the hug all the way home as I walked through the rain.
1 comment:
I think this sounds like a good example of first mover advantage.
Post a Comment