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.
But right now, she needs me.
Hold my hand.