Though I love my son more than anything else, since he has been "older," I have not been a very physically affectionate mom. I'm more likely to tell him I love him or give him a hurried kiss in the mornings than to embrace him. Hugging is not something I like to do because I am acutely aware of the fact that his arms don't go around me. Shallow, I know, but you'd be amazed the things I notice because of my size.
But tonight, feeling very sentimental for various reasons, I paused to look at him before I covered a newly-discovered rash on his arm with neosporin. And what I feel for this kid, to borrow an old hometown phrase, just went all over me. And I hugged him. Tightly. To his amazement. He smelled so good, like soap from his nightly bath and the overly generous dusting of baby powder he gives himself despite my admonitions. He was warm and small and so solid in my arms. His hair felt thick and coarse against my palm and his arms around my neck were the sweetest weight. For the two minutes before he wiggled away, everything was profoundly okay.
Dear God, how could I have forgotten that?
***Thanks, BfP, for reminding me.***