We talked, of course. Introduced her to my husband, laughed, caught up on the surface details of our lives like people do. It was easy. Light. Pleasant. We even made plans to meet for lunch next week. Everything about it was normal… except it wasn’t. Because underneath every word, every smile, every casual sentence, I could still feel that hug.
Even now, I can’t stop thinking about it.
It wasn’t dramatic. It didn’t last long. No one else in that store would have thought twice about it. But for me… it lingered. It stayed. It settled somewhere deep in my chest in a way I can’t quite explain. Why did that feel so different? Why did it matter so much?
And then the answer came, quiet but undeniable.
Because it was the first time in my life I felt completely, genuinely seen.
Not tolerated. Not expected. Not simply there. But seen. Welcomed. Celebrated, even, in the smallest, simplest way. And once you feel that—once you experience that kind of warmth, even for just a few seconds—it’s impossible to ignore what’s been missing all along.
So now I’m left with this strange, aching realization.
I’ve lived 57 years surrounded by people…
And it took a woman I barely knew, in the middle of a supermarket, to show me what real affection feels like.
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