Touched

I’m sitting in the library at Azusa Pacific University (where my friend works) trying so hard to muster up the courage to do the work I came here to do. Yes, I came here to visit my sister and friends but I also came here knowing I need to write a paper that is due the end of the month. I should have read 2 books by now but instead I’m only halfway through the first one… MOMMY!

I’m gazing out huge windows overlooking a grassy nook shaded by arching trees. Every few hours when classes get out, I take “mini-breaks” to watch southern Californians kiss, hug and smile at each other as they pass between classes. These (beautiful) people often stop to have passionate (20-second) conversations, smiling, touching and laughing while they’re at it.

I’ve decided that the spoken word is highly over-rated. Sometimes physical contact will tell you more about a person than a lengthy conversation will. It makes me think of how many lips I’ve kissed in casual greeting since I’ve been here. I’ve engaged in mutual, full-bodied hugs and squeezes with the people I’ve just been introduced to by friends.

It’s so strange to return to your culture after being away (even for 4 months) to find it foreign to you. It makes me sad to realize how quickly I’ve gotten used to NOT being touched… to not touching others.

It’s actually hard for me NOT to hug a friend or acquaintance when I see them in New Jersey. Somehow, I know they would misinterpret that action. Maybe I would seem needy or invasive or flirty (god forbid).

I just miss being touched by perfect strangers (or at least smiled at)… it offers unique assurance in the goodness of humanity.