As we walked the streets of Martha’s Vineyard during today’s staycation adventures, I realized that we are a family of hand holders.
I give full credit for our public displays of familial affections to my husband who, since the day we started dating, was a guy who liked to hold hands. Or, in what has become one of my favorite marital habits, to “fiddle” with my fingers while driving, sometimes pulling my hand a little too hard in an attempt to make it easier to drive and play at the same time.
I swear he forgets my hand is connected to my arm.
There are few sweeter moments for me than when my children hold hands.
Or when our son, in a moment of quiet, slips his hand into his father’s.
Today, with the sweetness was also a twinge of regret as I realized that at least one of my children may not want to hold our hands for much longer.
Here’s hoping he always remembers our hands are always there for him to hold.
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