Take People For Granted (and hug them).
by P. Braithwaite
As I write this, I am sitting on the Long Island Railroad. The sun is setting at my shoulder, and outside my window an abstraction of suburbia swirls — colorful mixtures of sunshine, strip-malls, and sky. I’m on my way to give my mother a hug.
Now, just to be clear, my mother doesn’t need a hug. I need one. I’m (more than a little bit) hormonal, and so I’ve decided to travel over an hour because, quite simply, I want my mommy. I’m thirty years old and on the train to Babylon, because I feel better when my mommy gives me hugs.
I want to be ashamed of this, but I’ve decided not to. I want to use this as a way to berate myself — consider myself co-dependent or unhealthy, and maybe all of that is true, but as I was traveling on the familiar road to self-deprecation, I remembered something:
Both my grandparents are dead. I won’t be able to hug my mom forever.
So here’s the deal: I’m a firm believer in taking people for granted. It’s true. If you didn’t take people for granted a little, things would get really weird. You’d look at people way too long. You’d cry when they left the room. You might even stop living your own life to follow them around. I think, to a certain degree, we have to take each other for granted to fulfill our own destiny. My advice though…is this: if you wanna hug someone…you should do it (even if it requires some travel). And if they pop into your mind, give em a call. And if you love someone, buy ’em a candy bar to let ’em know they’re special (unless their diabetic or trying to lose weight).
Never be ashamed for loving someone too much. None of us make it out of here alive…
Who do you take for granted? Go give em a hug (and then go about your business; you’ve got sh*t to do. lol).