Friday, August 21, 2015

Hold My Hand

Hold My Hand

She had been pushing my hand away all summer.
Didn't want to hold it, not when we
 crossed the street or were in a parking lot,
she was too old for that.

I felt sad every time I reached out for her hand
and she pushed it away.
Angry, too, and I made her hold it
for safety, I told her, drivers still can't see you.

So we did a push and pull, all summer long.

And then we were walking to Kindergarten,
familiar route, new destination.
She wasn't scared, not for a minute,
but she did reach out her hand for mine.

I knew, right then, that my handholding lease
had been extended, just for awhile.
I did not take it for granted,
but grasped her gently.

Knowing she will not always need this.
Need me.
But right now, she needs me.
Hold my hand.

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