{hugs}

We bonded on the playground outside of the pre-K classroom.

We were both new to the area with kids in the same class.

She was from Jordan, but was raised on an island called Cyprus, near Turkey. Her father was a successful businessman. They led a privileged life with servants and private schools. She dated princes, and had three beautiful sisters whom she was still really close to.

She went to grad school in Colorado, fell in love, and got married to a guy from Alaska. He was a few years younger than her, really smart, and gorgeous. They were a very exotic, and sexy, couple. I found her stories fascinating.

Don thought she was a spoiled, self-centered diva, and wondered why we were friends.

I was just an ordinary gal from the Midwest, a little on the prissy side. Nothing like her.

I was raised by a hard working dad and stay-at-home mom. We didn't have a servant. In fact we often whined that we were the servants.

Our different backgrounds didn't stop us from becoming friends.

We started hanging out during the week with the kids, then meeting for dinner with the hubbies on the weekend. We both owned small businesses and had a mutual love of good food and wine.

Pretty soon we were getting together almost every weekend to talk shop and drink wine.

She was an amazing cook. Her passion for life was on display when she was in the kitchen.

"This is Rawan's special sauce she would say, it's full of yum-yums." and we all believed her, even the kids.

"Americans don't use enough spice. I always double what they recommend. That's why it tastes better." she would brag.

She loved discussing relationships, philosophy, and private stuff.  My friends would lay their head on Rawan's shoulder as we all talked about life.

Their closeness was strange to me. I wasn't used to such affection with girlfriends.

"What's wrong? You're not hugging me back. Does this make you uncomfortable?" she asked once.

Well, uh, yeah it does. And confronting me about it makes me even more uncomfortable.

I lied.

"Of course not, I love hugs. Who doesn't love hugs?" I replied, defensively.

"Then why do you stand like this?" she asked standing stiff as a board with her hands by her side, and her eyes wide open.

Uh, now I'm really uncomfortable.

"Are you afraid of affection?" she asked. "From a woman-friend?"

I am now. Holy schnikes. Can I leave? I would like to leave, please.

"No. I'm just not a big hugger, that's all." I answered back wishing Don was there to save me.

"Ok. Well I'm a hugger. Hope you don't mind." she replied cheerfully, hugging me again.

And that's how it was with her.

I think she enjoyed trying to convert me to be a hugger.

She ended up moving back to Jordan with her daughter after the girls finished 1st grade. She wanted to be closer to her family.

Her husband stayed in the U.S. running their company. I didn't have a good feeling about how this was going to end.

I told her she would never come back once she went home. This upset her and she stopped speaking to me. But I knew her. Her life in California would be a distant memory once she got home.

She called a year ago and said she was getting divorced. I wasn't surprised. 

I was sad for her husband and daughter.

I'm sure she's hugging someone else now.

And I'm still a tentative hugger.

  

Today's TRDC post is about Affection.

Some of us show it easily, hugging relatives each time we meet.  Wrapping our arms around friends. Some of us are more reserved, rarely touching other people. And then a few of us hang out somewhere in the middle.  Hugging our children, but limiting our affection to handshakes with others.

This week we would like you to write about how the show of affection has played a part in your memory.

Choose a time when either the abundance or lack of affection (either by you or someone else) stands out, and show us.  Bring us to that time.  Help us feel what you felt. 600 words max.