My sister Lori guards her personal space like the last piece of blueberry pie. Lori hugged me five times in as many decades: my wedding, her wedding, the birth of my children and our grandmother’s funeral — when a large cup of chai sparked a spontaneous, caffeine-fueled show of affection.

Lori frontloads any meet-up with, “I don’t hug,” backing away, hands up like Muhammad Ali, a steely glint in her eye. The directive is clear. Most people respect her boundaries, but then there are those people.

Those people say, “Well, you may not hug, but I do!” and proceed to bulldoze her boundaries, initiating a forced hug while delighting in the deep discomfort of a stiff-armed, annoyed woman, wishing them ill with every cell of her body and the spaces in between. The tidy embrace ends with them feeling rejected.

Plant corn, grow corn, people.

Truth be told, I get it — avoiding unnecessary contact is sometimes the sanest choice. I’ve been on both sides of the dodge.

Last month, I spotted a friend at the farmer’s market. I paused behind a display of cutting boards. She, seeing me, became suddenly fascinated by her blank phone, walking away with the crisp gait of an ER surgeon.

We are not hug-friends, but we are warm-smiles-hand-squeeze friends. Our children played sports together, and we shared a situational friendship born on the sidelines. Years after graduation, neither of us lingered long enough for a cozy catch-up.

My friend Zoe Smith and I have debated code words for this exact moment — a word that says, “Wish you well, Talk To You Later.” We tried fruits, vegetables, nonsense words. None caught on. My lack of a curated TikTok reel and the four people who follow me on Instagram do not exactly signal mass adoption of a random word like “rutabaga” or “pinecone” to replace the 15-minute time suck of idle chitchat.

We guard our time because rushing through one necessary human activity only brings us to another, happening nearby. Stuck in physical bodies, everything happens near us. I plan errands in the most efficient loop possible, cutting corners and expediting life like saved time is something I can tuck in a pocket. Fact: Later, I am wiping counters and making a new list of errands.

We all have our ways of saying hello and goodbye — some more physical than others. Last month, our Korean host son Kyumin brought his family to the Adirondacks for the first time. We spent time researching Korean customs — the most important being: no hugging. As we anticipated, Kyumin’s parents were warm, thoughtful and quick to laugh. After a long, enjoyable day on the shores of Lower Saranac, we shook hands and bowed — a simple, graceful farewell that, in Korean culture, conveys respect, gratitude and goodwill.

Nothing says “wish you well, TTYL” quite like a bow and a smile.