The truth about hugs
It had been six weeks, four days, three hours and thirty-odd minutes since I had last hugged my second born. I clung to the memory of that rather fleeting moment in the courtyard just outside her Boston dorm, knowing it would be the longest I had ever gone without being able to hug her at will. Excuses for delaying my departure had run out; her father and brother had said their goodbyes and left hours before. Now, she had a roommate to befriend, people to meet, places to explore. I had a three-plus hour drive back home to my son and husband, with whom I would navigate a new reality of two...
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