Learning to Love
The morning light filtered through the trees, casting speckled shadows across the porch. I sat outside reading, the wind flipping the pages softly—along with a quiet moment. Suddenly, a pair of arms wrapped around me from behind. It was my sister.
We never had hugs growing up. Affection was rare, unsaid. But her arms were gentle, and I reached up to lightly pat her hand. We didn’t speak. We didn’t have to.
Maybe we are learning now—how to love, and how to be loved.
Rising sun—
arms around me from behind,
a first gentle touch
