Unexpected Healing

When you think about it... Hugs are a simple thing.

Eyes catch the glance of another. We move toward one another. Heads move to one side, arms wrap, holding close for a brief second or more.

Words may follow….

“It’s so good to see you.”

“I’m so sorry for your loss.”

“I missed you so much!”

“You got this.”

 “I love you.”

 “Thank you.”

Or not…

The hug may have said it all.

Then the pull apart—

a step back,

arms slide down to cradle hands,

or just letting go.

And if the emotion is high, this simple act may be repeated

 with copious amounts of tears,

unbridled laughter, (sometimes both at the same time),

or simply silence.  

I’ve had a variety of hugs this week.

·      The “Quick man-hug-with-a-quick-squeeze-tap-on-the-back-and-grunt-hug.”

·      The “Leaning-over-while-your-9-year-old-grandchild-backs-into-your-leg-hug.”

·      The “Exhale-into-someone’s-arms-as-if-you’d-been-waiting-forever-hug.”

·      The “You-make-me-feel-safe-hug.”

·      The “I-just-need-to-be-held-and-we’re-gonna-get-through-this-lingering-hug.”

No Venmo, tapping on the screen, or reaching into your wallet is needed. Maybe that’s what makes them so precious. It is the gift of another person wanting to be close to another and connection.

This week, on a walk to shake off the day, my husband and I headed to a park.

Acres of open grass gave us breathing space.

The breeze brushed by and through us, taking heaviness with it.

The colors were extraordinary.

Heading to our car, we passed by a group of locals setting up a table. The joy on the children’s faces caught my eye. I didn't realize I was going to get a gift.

Then I saw the sign, “FREE HUGS.”

Without hesitation, I walked over to the little girl and her parents, eyes welling up a bit.

"This is so nice, " I said, leaning in for a brief side hug, "You made my day."

I thanked her and told her that her smile and hug made everything a little bit better, and to keep being the kind, and wonderful girl that she is.

I have thought of this girl often this week. Giving what she could, a smile and a hug.

Maybe a hug can be the viral gift of the season.

The world needs more hugs right now, don't we?

I leave you with a Haiku for this Poetry Friday.

Sunset light sets leaves ablaze.

Hanging like ripe fruit,

ready for harvest, they fall.

©cathystenquist

Be sure to fill your bucket today with the poetry round-up at Patricia Franz's lovely blog. Her Autumn Tanka is lovely! Thanks for hosting, Patricia!

Digger Trucks

There's something magical about trucks that takes my grandson, Ronan away in his imagination. Mail trucks, construction trucks, garbage trucks, and even my husband's Silverado parked in the driveway.

But his favorite construction truck is an excavator. He loves to sing Blippi's Excavator song. You can listen here. Beware, it is catchy!

Awakening from his afternoon nap, on the days I watch him, he pulls to his feet, stares at the window and points.

"Grampie's truck,!" he says loud and clear.

So our routine begins. I lift him to a nice, warm, sleepy hug. Then, parked on my hip, we make our way to the window. As the shade rises, Ronan blocks his eyes for a minute, "Bright light," he confirms, while I slide the window open.

And for a while, we just stay there, feeling the air, listening to birds and talking about Grampie's truck.

"Grampie's Truck!!!" he repeats with a big smile. "Drive it!" he adds. I chuckle.

Photo by Jerry Spar /Hopkinton Independent

Garbage truck days are awesome of course, but our favorite recent activity is pulling into the parking area across from a construction site near me, and watching the 4 excavators scoop and pour their loads into dump trucks. I imagine we could spend the day there with no problem.

Needless to say, as his birthday rolled around, I wanted to give him an excavator. And with Halloween around the corner, Pinterest did not disappoint, giving me quite a few ideas. Armed with a black foam core board, a few boxes from "Green Chef," an Exacto knife, and duct tape, I was off.

I even found some push-on lights for the front, which were the biggest hit!

Cousin play

As you can see, he eventually warmed up to it. I'm not sure yet if he will actually step into it and wear it with the construction vest and hat... but what can you expect from a 2-year-old!

Ronan's construction birthday cake

This morning, in honor of Poetry Friday yesterday, I wrote an excavator poem for Ronan.  Enjoy!

Check out this week's Poetry Friday offerings at our host, Linda's blog, Teacher Dance. Thanks for hosting Linda!

One Man's Trash ...

Behind my art table, tucked in a grocery bag, I found them— no longer needed, but still holding the memory of the object they protected. Several cardboard tubes, once holding Christmas wrap, and five unique packaging pieces made of egg carton material. Most people would have discarded them without a thought. For at least a year, they sat waiting in a grocery bag, waiting for their next role.

But, moved by their form and texture, I paused. Imagination stirred. These unvalued pieces of packing seemed too unique to throw away.

Realizing my stash was overflowing. I finally set a goal to recycle the abundance of things I had collected. I grabbed the grocery bag and began pulling them out.

But something made me stop.

I wondered if someone in my family could use them for a Halloween costume? A robot, perhaps? Or a local art teacher as material for a student's collage? Maybe offer them free on a local website...surely someone else would see the value in them,

The more I held them and brainstormed, the more I fell back in love with them. As my finger felt the texture again, tracing each bump and valley, ideas stirred. I grabbed a sheet of foam board, some old burlap, and began playing. Quicker than I thought, an idea came together.

Before I got the glue gun heating, I started thinking of how these cardboard pieces were found and how they were almost lost to the recycle bin. The poem for this yet-to-be artwork began to pour out.

Don't you love it when that happens? Here is the poem, just in time for Poetry Friday!

Everything has value, even things we think are trash can become beautiful works of art.

Follow me on FB @cathystenquist to see how this project unfolds. Can't wait to get started!

FYI- and If you're in the area today, 9/27/25, I will be reading my poem, "The Stirring," at the TRUE GRIT GALLERY in Middleborough around 2:15 pm. Come check out the poems that won and the art created from their inspiration.

38 Center Street Middleborough, MA 02346

And be sure to check out this week's Poetry Friday Round-up at: The Poem Farm, with host, Amy Ludwig VanDerwater for an assortment of lovely words to brighten your day!