The following scene took place this morning in our living room:
Sister (to me): “Okay, bye.”
Me: “Bye.” Little wave.
Sister (to Ma): “Bye.” Hugs
Ma (mid-hug): “Bye.” Opens arms and waves me into the hug.
Me: “Nah, that’s okay.”
Ma (sternly with that I’m-your-mother-so-do-what-I-say voice): “Come on.”
Me (sighing, resigned): “Fine.” Hugs Sister and Ma.
This was probably the third time my sister and I have hugged. Ever. Keep in mind she’s 27 and I’m 24. Needless to say it was awkward.
As this scene clearly demonstrates, my family is not very touchy-feely. We rarely hug or kiss each other and about the closest thing to an affectionate touch would be an arm around the shoulders while posing for a picture. And once the picture has been taken, the arm is removed. We’re just not that way. I tell people about this and most will give me a weird, bewildered look and ask, “Really?”
While this is the case, I will say that I have never doubted that my family loves and cares about me or vice versa. We just don’t have the need to say it. We just do. Simple as that.
I think Red Forman says it best: