Two months ago, our stroller broke. Since it was a hand-me-down, and nearly a decade old, we weren’t surprised, but a little worried. The stroller was our main way of getting our three year old around, as we don’t own a car. However, we decided not to replace it, and see if we could manage more often with her on foot, on the bus, and on the back of her Dad’s bike. The result has been wholly positive, except for the fact that our walking paces are quite different, so she usually ends up a step or two behind me and the hand that is clasped in hers.
The fact that Olive and I hold hands so much now, to stay together and keep moving down the crowded urban streets, has made me feel overly touched by the adults that choose to hold hands just to connect. My daughter and I hold hands out of utility, and I love seeing couples (especially two big burly dudes), holding hands out of affection. I’m noticing it more than ever now, and thinking of how tender it is that this holdover from childhood still happens with adult couples, with a new meaning. So, here are some sweet photos of grown-ups holding hands:
My husband and I are doing the same thing for Lent that we did last year: instead of giving something up, we are adding doing something kind for each other each of the 40 days. So forgive me for this whimsical post – I’m feeling a bit romantic.