Hold My Hand

This past weekend I learned what it means to hold someone’s hand. We all hold someone’s hand at some point in time. Holding another’s hand can be very powerful. Sometimes it’s habitual but the touch of another can be so rewarding.

I think back to when I was a child and a parent or someone close to me held my hand. It was protection. It was love. It was comfort.

When a friend in school held my hand, it was loving and powerful. You felt like one unit and nothing could break that bond.

When a boy I liked first held my hand, I would get butterflies in my stomach and I felt proud and cared for.

When I became a mother and I held my child’s hand for the first time, I felt special. As my boy grew, he didn’t want to hold my hand as much. When I became a mother again, my son didn’t like to have his hand held very much. He would refuse. It made me sad. One day, I grabbed his hand walking across the street and ended up with just a wrist. A few months later, my son took my hand in his and it brought tears to my eyes. Now he wants to grab my hand for everything. It was worth the wait.

I remember when my cousin passed three years ago, we all went to New York for the funeral. As we walked in the church, my father held my hand like I was his little girl and we walked that way until we sat down. I felt important,loved and quite touched by the gesture.

I recently participated in a Spartan race. I got overheated and got sick. My friend kept telling me to get up. She was trying to motivate me to keep moving. What she didn’t understand was that I was overheated and I needed to cool down.

I finally did get up. I was weak but I was moving. A man was walking in front of me and asked if I needed help and he grabbed my hand. He walked me the rest of the way up the mountain holding my hand. I don’t know what he looked like. I only know that he felt wonderful. I felt protected once more and I got strength from that one good samaritan. I only remember staring at his legs and saying “I love it when a man holds my hand.” Thank you kind stranger for being there in my moment of need.

I finished the race 9 miles 27 obstacles and 6 hours later and I didn’t see him again (as far as I know since I don’t know what he looks like). Thank you for holding my hand for I was able to move on and reach my goal.

Don’t underestimate the power of a gentle touch, a small tickle or a strong hand. I won’t underestimate it’s power again.


One thought on “Hold My Hand

  1. I love this post… In the Philippines where i grew up, it is culturally acceptable for women, friends, relatives, to hold hands, and I’ve seen little old men and ladies hold hands as they walk together, shopping, or at a promenade, at the park.

    When a niece (in her 20s) visiting from the Philippines stayed with us in the Bay Area, she liked to hold my and my daughter’s hand as we took her around tourist spots. It was sweet, awkward at first, then i remembered it is part of our culture, and so there we were…my then 16 year old daughter holding her hand …sometimes all 3 of us holding hands like little girls. Maybe we should do more of this 🙂

    Liked by 1 person

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