Hugging Grandma

There’s nothing quite as sweet as a grandparent’s love, and so the isolation of 2020 due to Covid 19 has left an unexpected pang of sadness for this group.  

As soon as I read Maureen Wilson’s poem, I knew many you would relate to her words as much as I do:

Grandma’s Arms

I used to take for granted the feel of 

little bodies wrapped in my hug.  

I never pushed them away, but I presumed 

they would always be there.

Was I ever wrong.  

First it was hormones that broke the magic spell.  

Those hugs that used to last from dawn until 

the last eyelash fell on the downy cheek. 

Now they would last only a brief few seconds 

as the little ones grew into teens 

and became too body conscious.  

But those were still good hugs 

and good times.

And they always ended in a 

kiss on the cheek, forehead or hair.

Then March 10, 2020 came

and the hugging stopped.

Suddenly, grandmothers were 

susceptible to disease, or worse, 

they were carrying virus germs! 

Now grandma’s hugs are dangerous

and must not be allowed. 

By June of 2020, 

grandmothers everywhere were hugging 

their phones and their tablets, 

trying to feel the softness of the babies and toddlers.  

They were kissing hard glass screens 

because they couldn’t hold the love back 

against the dam of contagions any longer.

In August, the tears flowed.  

Grandmothers everywhere were dying, 

not just of disease but of broken hearts.  

Every holiday had been spent alone this year 

and the ones ahead promise more of the same:  

Endless days of old television shows

and maybe a text or a picture or 

if God is good, a video chat.

But the videos are cold and 

they have no smell.  

Grandma didn’t lose her sense of smell, 

she lost the memory of how 

her grandbabies smell.  

Of soap and shampoo and dirt

 and sticky chocolate frosting.  

The sweat from the little boys 

after they ran through the park—gone.  

Grandma can’t smell it and 

she cannot hug it 

and her arms are empty.

 My arms ache from the loneliness 

of this new life.  


My prayer is that the new HUG-less life Maureen describes is temporary and we will be back to the smells and sights and feels of our grandkids.

Maureen is known as The Insurance Lady, LLC from Goodyear, AZ. Soon (I predict) she’ll also be known for her gift of transforming powerful thoughts to words. Thank you Maureen.

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