Do you want to hold my hand?

There are a few people whose hands I have the pleasure of holding. Especially when it’s my daughter, it often calms my nerves to feel the small, squishy hand warming on my own. Often, she’s been, to my anxious mind, hurtling towards danger and is now back, anchored.

But the times she wants to hold my hand as we walk around the park are ever-so warming. Although here there is no learned response (like when we cross a road) she takes it and it’s a reminder that my daughter needs me close-by.

When I’m the daughter and holding my own mum’s hand it feels familiar as well as strange. I know the hand: soft, lined, now the same size as my own… But it feels beautifully intimate to take her hand, now I’m grown, and walk along nonchalantly.

When I’m older and my daughter towers above me, I hope that I’ll have the pleasure of a familiar hand in mine.

6 January 2019

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