Our bond is strong and even sweet. He still hugs me. But only in private. I love when he wraps his long arms around me, even if it’s for a millisecond. I get more high fives and fist pumps than hugs but that’s okay. I’ll take what I can get.
I’ve been thinking a lot about that post I wrote last week.
Don’t Stare At My Daughter.
I got a lot of feedback on it. Mostly women with daughters who were feeling the same way that I did.
Disgusted. Concerned. And powerless.