Just Don't

I shrugged into my sweatshirt, zipped it up, and waved good-bye to everyone.
As I turned to leave, the youngest, who can walk, told me to wait.
I stopped.
He hurried over to me, wrapped his arms around one of my legs, and said good-bye.
I hunched over, sort of hugged him back, and said good-bye.
He let go and so did I.
I turned and walked out the door and down the path to my car.
As I climbed in, I didn't feel anything.
I thought I should, but wondered what it should be.
I recognized the moment as touching.
He knows my name. He recognizes me.
I'm not around that much and he's quite young.
He choose to come close to say good-bye.