Holding Hands

In my former neighborhood, a petite elderly couple, guessing in their early 80s, shuffled up and down the street every day, holding hands.

A stylish, elegant pair, the man always wore a black felt beret and thin dark jacket. The woman dressed appropriate for the weather; a dress or skirt most days, then slacks when it cooled. They both wore white sneakers, laced not Velcroed.

They seemed glued to each other’s conversation, content in their own world, acknowledging no one passing by.

One Spring morning the woman stopped to admire a neighbor’s lilac trees in full bloom. She inhaled a sweet cluster and invited the man to do the same; he obliged and they shared a lovely moment. Then he snapped a few branches and delicately tucked them into her palm.

I imagined their long history. How had this precise, choreographed daily slow dance come to waltz into the neighborhood?

Perhaps they experienced young love, world travel, multiple wars, births of children, deaths of parents and friends, meaningful (or not) professions, communion with nature…all of it.

My last sighting of them was in early March nearly twelve years ago when I moved from the neighborhood. The woman dressed in a heavy coat, scarf wrapped around her head and twisted stylishly at the collar. His hand covered hers; he paused to take her elbow to ease her struggle onto the curb. There was a noticeable slow down to their dance, but they danced.

I wondered how many times over the course of their life, the simple act of holding hands had comforted or celebrated each of them.

BE F-G AWESOME TODAY!

Awesome LOVE

Original graphic: Stephanie DelTorchio