When my children were little and we walked anywhere, we held hands. It made us feel safe, loved and protected. Now they are grown and hold each other’s hands. What a wonderful tradition to carry on.
Some of my grandchildren are still little enough that we hold hands. All too soon they will outgrow that need. I will cherish that feel of the little hand resting in mine for as long as allowed.
My husband of 46 years and I still hold hands. Lately I’ve become aware of the smiling faces watching us as we stroll along, side by side, hand in hand.
As the years roll by, I am filled with awe that a simple gesture of handholding can still unite all ages in hope. I see the smiles followed quickly by a dreamy look and I know… that particular soul just grabbed a small slice of hope.