The Hug

On Tuesdays and Thursdays, because of my adjunct work, I am able to make the girls breakfast and either bike or drive them to school (depending on the weather). It's been a nice change to get to spend some time with them in the morning and take things a little easier.

Yesterday, we drove over because it was chilly and overcast. We parked, got out, and walked to their respective lines. I rarely wait around for Maryn because, as the chattiest second grader I know, she gets in her class line and immediately starts talking to someone and forgets I'm even there. So I walk Avery around the corner of the building to the first-grader doors.

We got to her line and, once there, she wrapped her arms around my waist and just stood there. She rested her cheek on my belly and quietly watched her peers wander over from the bus. Neither of us said anything. I put my hand on her back and we waited for the bell to ring. I looked around and saw that all the other parents had placed their kids in line and then stepped back. I was the only one over four feet tall in line. For a second, I considered dislodging Ave and moving a few feet away.

But then I thought to myself, how much longer will Ave be like this? How many more years or months before she doesn't want her dad standing in line with her? How much longer before she's not willing to just hug me wordlessly with dozens of people around?

Neither of us moved a muscle until the bell rang. I'm glad I didn't step back.