“Do you want a hug?” I asked my sister.
We don’t do affection. At all. Ever.
“She doesn’t,” my mum said, when my sister didn’t answer me.
I was at the door, leaving home to go back to my home after the christmas-new year break.
“Ahh, I think she does,’ and I went to hug her.
“I’m just awkward,” she murmured into my shoulder, so I gave her an extra squeeze for good measure.
My family do not show affection. It’s clumsy, awkward, strange.
Once my sister was in a state of Terrible Hurt. She was crying alone in her bedroom, in her bed, under a pile of clothes and blankets. Normally we are catty with each other, but that one time I went into her dorm room, climbed into bed with her and held her while she cried.
‘Go away” she said in the end, sniffling.
I didn’t go away, and she didn’t ask me to again.
I don’t know why it’s strange and weird and awkward to give my family affection, when I do it so freely with my children and husband. With my cousins and aunts. With my friends.
Why is it so hard?
I love them all so fiercely.
So why is it so hard?