When strangers first meet they shake hands–an affirmation that the meeting is welcome. When we are in the midst of our final goodbyes, we hold hands to comfort our souls.

It seems that hands are always seeking me out. My husband’s hand on the small of my back as we stroll into a room, a student’s hand creeping into mine as we walk in the hall, a tiny paw on my lap as I read my book. They are little reminders that I am not alone. Someone is there guiding, imploring, recognizing all along the way.

The most welcomed of these hands is the one that brushes hair from my eyes in the early morning light as he plants a quiet kiss on my forehead when leaving for work…a reminder that I am loved. When I groggily forget this morning ritual, succumbed to sleep, my day is wrong. I miss the touch that tells me I am safe, I am loved, I am a part of something bigger than myself. I send a text double checking that our silent goodbye really happened. I am always reassured that it has.

And when I do remember those quiet moments before drifting back to sleep, I always have a small smile on my face. For I am not alone…I am loved by somebody special.

 

I am participating in FIVE MINUTE FRIDAY.  Today’s word is:  hands.

The rules are simple. Write for five minutes flat. There is no extreme editing; no worrying about perfect grammar, font, or punctuation. It is unscripted. Unedited. Real.