She Doesn’t Owe Me a Hug

While reading the Insight I wrote about Poopie girl, I suddenly thought of my granddaughter Rose.

Rose is thirteen.

She is a teenager, and she is not what anyone would call huggy.

There is no “touchy-touchy” with this one.

Like Poopie, Rose decides when she wants physical affection, how much she wants, and when the moment is over.

And that does not mean she does not love me.

It means she is Rose.

Her needs matter.

Her boundaries matter.

Her desires matter.

And just because I am Grandma does not mean I am entitled to a hug.

Waiting for the Twinkle

Every once in a while, I will see it.

There will be a little twinkle in Rose’s eye. Maybe a sideways glance. Something shifts in her expression, and I know.

She is ready.

Ready for a hug.

It may not be a long, lingering, “Oh, thank goodness—it has been so long” kind of hug.

It may be a quick sneak-in, hug, and run.

But those hugs mean so much to me.

Not because I desperately need reassurance that Rose loves me. I already know she does.

They matter because they are freely given.

In that moment, Rose lets her guard down. She feels safe enough to put herself out there. She allows me to see a tiny glimpse of the soft, vulnerable part of herself she works so hard to protect.

She chooses to let me in.

Only for a moment.

And then she may be gone.

But the moment was complete.

Love Does Not Need Proof

Sometimes we treat physical affection as proof of love.

We expect children to hug relatives. We may believe that because we love someone, they should be willing to receive affection in the way we want to give it.

But love is not measured by access to another person’s body.

Rose does not need to hug me to prove that she loves me.

I do not need to override her discomfort to prove that I love her.

In fact, respecting her boundaries may be one of the clearest ways I can show her that I do.

I can love Rose without asking her to become more openly affectionate.

I can recognize her love in the ways she chooses to express it.

A look.

A joke.

A shared moment.

A quick hug when she is ready.

Love becomes more honest when it is not demanded.

One Hundred Percent Rose

Rose is a very special person.

She is fierce, independent, strong-willed, sensitive, and vulnerable.

She does not follow the crowd.

Honestly, I am not even sure she sees the crowd.

Rose is Rose.

She is not looking around to determine who everyone else expects her to be. She is not interested in performing affection to make other people comfortable.

She knows herself.

She protects herself.

And when she chooses to open the door, even briefly, it is real.

That independence is not something I want to change in her.

It is something I admire.

I love that she is her own person. I love knowing that no one is going to make her do something she does not want to do.

Not even give Grandma a hug.

And you know what?

That is freakin’ awesome.

What Poopie Helped Me See

Poopie taught me that independence is not rejection.

A boundary is not an absence of love.

A brief moment of connection is not less meaningful because it does not last.

Rose teaches me the same thing.

Neither Poopie nor Rose owes me affection in the form I might expect. My job is not to convince them to give me more.

My job is to notice what they freely offer and receive it with gratitude.

When I release the need to control how love should look, I can recognize the love that is already there.

Perhaps that is one of the greatest gifts we can give another being:

To let them know that our love does not depend on their compliance.

That they do not have to perform closeness.

That their “no” will be respected.

That their “yes,” when it comes, will be received without grabbing for more.

You May Be Wondering…

Shouldn’t children be encouraged to show affection to family members?

Children can be taught kindness, connection, and care without being taught that they must surrender their physical boundaries.

We can invite affection without demanding it.

We can ask instead of assume.

We can allow a wave, a smile, a high five, or simply sitting together to be enough.

When a child knows their “no” will be respected, their “yes” becomes meaningful.

They learn that their body belongs to them.

They also learn that real love does not punish them for having boundaries.

Rose may not be a huggy person.

But when I see that twinkle in her eye and she chooses to come close, my heart lights up.

Not because I finally received proof that she loves me.

Because, for one brief and beautiful moment, she trusted me with her vulnerability.

And I know enough now not to hold on too tightly.

May you see the world through the eyes of love, remembering that we are all part of one living, sacred whole.