This Mom Needs a Hug

I hugged my sons today between the chaos and play. They normally rush through the everyday hugs (the quick pat, while they pull away, kind of hugs), but I cried today, heard about too many sons dying today. An everyday hug is not what this mother’s heart needs on a day like today. I rarely think of my own needs in my day-to-day life, but in these hours, as my world orbits far away from other worlds, I need to embrace my boys, fully and completely curl them around me for all the moms that will never again hold their sons with an outpouring of maternal abandon. I need to take my boys in my arms, snuggle them close, feel their youthful glow within their wise, yet tender, souls. I need to touch the rough-and-tumble scrapes and softness of their boyish skin nestled in my arms and smell the lingering sweet of shampoo as their hair brushes against my cheek. I remember how I felt an indescribable, unconditional love when they were born, the bond of mother and child that even death cannot break. I need to hold them again like they were babies wrapped in my arms, to reach that part of them that is a part of me. If I can, I will hold onto them a little longer for all the grieving mothers, before they slowly start to pull away, asking, “Mom, can I go play?” Written 6/6/20 for Craig Cornish's Hug Contest