Tiger Hug

Standing in the kitchen post Friday night pizza dinner.  It’s our go to on Lenten Friday night.

It’s another divide and conquer weekend.

We are all headed north to Vermont.

3/5 of us are headed to Hancock, VT where they will hang with Debbie and PJ.  Where they will rise early to be at the mountain, Sugarbush, by 8:00.  It’s become routine if your last name is Sherriff or Heindl.

2/5 of us are headed to Bellows Falls, VT where one will watch while the other joins her team in one last competition dance for the 17-18 season

“I want a tiger hug.”

“I love a good tiger hug.”

We are standing in between the stove and the island.  A tiger hug needs more space.

I scoot my feet back, she scoots her feet forward.  We have space.

I put my arms out towards her, she places her hands on my shoulders.  We bend our knees.  My feet are spread, shoulder width apart for stability and balance.  We lock eyes.

“One, two, three.”  full of anticipation, our voices are one.

She bends, she jumps, she wraps her long legs around me, and I pull her in close. Her arms encircle my neck, mine her back.  She nestles her head in my neck on my shoulder.

We laugh.

“You got so high!” I proclaim proudly.

“Yeah!  That was a good one!” she says.

We hold the tiger hug and she says…

“I don’t want to grow up so you can always pick me up.”

I add a squeeze to my hug, and say,

“I’ll always be able to pick you up.”