You hug me. I hug you.
Muscles tense, squeeze, contract. Then release, exhale, relax. Serotonin flows.
Skin against skin. Smooth. Heat transfers from your pores to mine and back again, a circular flow of kinetic energy that unites us.
For you, it’s a welcome, a rescue, a farewell, a possession. For me, it’s completion, it’s defining, it’s deeply metaphysical.
I inhale you. In the morning, stale and salty; in the evening, sweet and moist. You smell like bubbles. I wonder how motherhood smells to you.
As you sit in my lap, our limbs entwined, I marvel at the space you now occupy outside of my womb; how once you fit in there.
Thank you for this hug.