Canvas "Melting Heart"

The last time she was hugged was twenty years ago.

When she returned after school and barely opened the door, she rushed into her father's arms. She sobbed and cried, talking about the teacher's injustice, about the stupid two, about her friends who cheated and got ten, and although the teacher saw it, he didn't say anything. Dad stroked her head and said that the two didn't mean anything, "let it be the teacher's grade, and for me you will always be a ten."

But one day, my dad was gone, and his warmth was gone.

And she needed it so much!

The girl searched for her every day. When it became unbearable, she would open the closet, stick her head between her father's shirts and suits, and stand there with her eyes closed. She would drape the empty sleeves of her jacket over her shoulders, imagining comforting hands.

Twenty years have passed, the girl has grown up, lives in another city, but even now her father's old jacket hangs in her closet. And sometimes he hugs her.

I know how important it is - to be hugged, to bury your face in the chest of your beloved, so that the world disappears for a moment, leaving only the familiar smell, warmth, and the safest corner of the Earth - and then to run again, to live, with eyes wide open, drinking in the days of adventure and nights of discovery.

"Let that place - that tender embrace - wait for me, I will long for it, and when I am tired, scared, lost - I will return there again."

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