Holding Hands

In February I walked behind a family composed of two little brothers, five and three, and their grandparents. The boys, bundled up in winter gear, were as round as little snowmen. They held hands, while grandma and grandpa walked between the boys and the street.

 

The older boy had obviously learned the kids' rule about not stepping on the cracks in the sidewalk. He was taking a giant step, then a tiny step, then another giant one, watching the sidewalk all the time to avoid the cracks. Through all this, he still held on to his brother's hand. It was obvious that the little one had no idea why his brother was walking so oddly, but he tried to walk the same way: big step, little step, wobbling off course occasionally, but faithfully imitating his hero. It was beautiful.

 

A week or so after seeing this, I picked Sam up from school and did the 25-minute walk home with him. He let me hold his hand, and I was astonished that we could still do this. He is six, after all, and subject to peer pressure. I tested it a bit. I would let his hand drop for some reason—to adjust my backpack or his hood—and I would kind of hesitate to see whether Sam would initiate the hand-holding again. He did, every time. Grace descends when you hold hands with a child. I am so happy. This hand-holding may end some day, I thought, but it's a source of joy for both of us as long as it lasts.

 

Well, that was then. Last week, four months later, I met Sam at school and we started up the hill toward home. I reached for his hand. He pulled away a bit. I waited a moment or two and tried again. No hand met mine.

 

"So," I say, "are we not holding hands today?"

 

"Nope."

 

"Are you too big to hold hands now?"

 

"Uh-huh."

 

"Don't you hold anyone's hand?" I ask, thinking that perhaps it's just me.

 

"Yes, I do."

 

"Is it Georgia's hand that you hold?"

 

"Uh-huh."

 

And there you have it. Sam has become the grown-up hand-holder to little Georgia, who is 21 months old. No longer the holdee, the one who is held, he has become the holder, the responsible, caring guide to someone younger.

 

Where does the time go?

 

 

Copyright 2012 Ann Tudor

www.anntudor.ca
http://www.scenesfromthejourney.blogspot.com