Morning. Arms outstretched—his silent invitation for a hug. Afternoon. Back from school, same gesture. This time, arms flung wider, like he’s trying to hug the entire universe, and paired with a sheepish grin that says, Well? What are you waiting for? Late afternoon. I'm still deep in keyboard wizardry, spinning deadlines out of caffeine and desperation. He saunters in -- No words. Arms spread out like a human starfish, shuffling left, right, and sideways like a determined penguin on a mission, silently demanding a pause in my productivity. All occasions , I welcome with open heart and open arms. Rain or shine, chaos or calm, my arms are a 24/7 hug station. No occasion too big, no moment too small -- come what may, life. Night. My turn now. Come here, hug hug buddy. Hug before you disappear into your fortress of solitude. ~ ~ ~ That’s my boy. Words aren’t really his thing -- at least not the spoken or dramatic facial expressions. But give him a pen, and suddenly, he’s a...
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