What Happens to a Child Never Hugged

I was in the third grade and it was show and tell. Everyone else had something to show and I just had something to tell. I don't know what possessed me but I remember standing before the class and sharing my telling. With no dramatics I plainly stated what I wanted to share.
"I hate my mother"
That was all I had to say and walked backed to my desk in silence. There was no questions asked why I felt that way or what made me say it, not from the teacher or the other students.
The one person who did want to know why I said it was my mother. This was before the new technologies such as Facebook and Twitter, but by time I got home she already knew what I said and she stood in the living room waiting for me.
She glared at me.
"So you hate me huh?" I'll give you something to hate me for"
The race was on as she pulled out her freshly cut switch and like a cheetah I turned and ran out the door with her behind me getting in as many hits as she could.
I was regulated to my room for the rest of the month but when you're young it feels longer.
My mother never hugged me.
That wasn't the reason for my statement but I think my young self knew that I was missing out on an important connection between mother and child. Growing up we were scared of her. We would hear her pull in from work and no matter what we were doing, whether it was watching television, making Ramen Noodles or talking on the phone, we would stop what we were doing and run. Then we would wait in our room waiting to hear how her mood was. Did she have a good day or bad? Because if was bad we knew the day was going to be bad for us.
We never used to run from her but I remember how one day she came home from work and me and my three siblings ran out to greet her.
Her response, "Why are you motherfuckers embarrassing me?
It was the last day we ran to her.
These memories came back when I had a recent dinner with my cousin. His mother being my mother's sister had so much in common that I never realized it.All this time I thought I was alone in my experience but he shared the same story of him never hearing his mother saying she loved him.But she bought them stuff.
Stuff!
It made me realize that that's how my mother and her siblings were raised.
The way my mother showed love was through material items. By providing a roof over our heads, buying groceries, putting gifts under the tree, to her that was love.
During my time as a youth worker I worked with so many families that did the same thing. That considered buying their child a XBox 360 showed their sense of love.
I think I would have rather went on an empty stomach just to experience a hug of love.
What happens to a child never hugged?
They learn to not hug back and they reach in their wallet to show their love. They feel a emptiness, a non-completed bond. They don't know how to accept hugs because it's so unusual and makes one feel there's a hidden agenda.
Now that I'm older I do realize she gave what she got. What I had to learn was how to break that cycle.
I wished during that time of show and tell instead of telling everyone I hate my mother, that I could say "I don't care what my mother buys for me, I just want her hug."
What happens to a child never hugged?
It depends, some learn how to learn about love themselves, some forget how to fly and some use bitterness as the dirt that fills their empty garden.
No material object can replace the touch of a parent.