I wanna hold your hand
- col-dave-mast
- May 3, 2024
- 892
I doubt I’ll ever be recorded in the annals of history as “Mr. Romantic,” but when I think of romance, one image always comes to mind that I will forever be in awe of witnessing.
I don’t think there is anything more special than seeing a man and woman who have been married in wedded bliss for 50 years or more strolling along some beautifully adorned brick walkway, through a park or down the street holding hands.
Every time I see Mr. and Mrs. Smith, age 89 and 90, Mr. with his bowed legs waddling to and fro while Mrs. is seemingly walking on air as if by magic, the two who have become one strolling hand in hand without a care in the world with no other thought on their mind other than basking in the aura of the one they’ve loved for so many decades, I smile.
Mr. Smith’s gnarled, worn hands entwined with Mrs. Smith’s wrinkly yet almost velvet-like fingers, as if God made those two hands for the specific purpose of being unified as one from the very beginning.
That, to me, is the most romantic thing I can imagine.
I want to be that couple some day with my wife.
I want to have young people peer at us after we’ve passed by heading in opposite directions, the younger man turning to his mate and saying, “Now that is beautiful.”
You know why that is the most romantic thing ever?
Because those two people have earned it.
They have been through things, together. They’ve experienced heartache and joy, together. They may have raised multiple children, together. They rejoice in seeing the grandkids and great-grandkids, together. They have lived through everything life could throw at them, survived the test of time and come out the other side the better for it, together.
That’s why when I see those two elderly people strolling along, hand in hand, idly chatting or saying nothing at all — letting their simple and seemingly insignificant hand gesture speak volumes — I want to shout out, “I wanna be you some day.”
I want to stroll carefree on some country road or in some big city and not have any care about the world other than the hand I’m holding because I have earned it.
I want to walk in silence with the one I love, feel the light breeze on my face, then turn to her and give her a wink and the slightest of grins, just to let her know she’s still my gal that I married many moons ago.
I feel like I’m on my way.
It’s been 37 years, and I still love holding my wife’s hand. There’s something significant that almost thoughtless expression of love brings about that comes so naturally because you’ve done it so often it’s automatic.
You’re walking along, you reach out and it’s right there.
The perfect fit.
By golly, maybe I do have a bit of Mr. Romance in me.
I’ve never been a big fan of public affection, but that one singular act speaks in such an overpowering way to me.
It’s so simple and unspectacular, but the overriding meaning behind it is so significant.
It says, “I want to be connected with you after all of these years.”
It says, “You’re what I’m holding on to. You’re the one thing in my life that I don’t ever want to let go of.”
You know, when people first start dating, holding hands means something completely different. They are diving into the great unknown, taking that first step in developing their relationship. There is a queasy feeling of “should I do this now?” that kicks off the hand-holding process.
But after decades together, it outgrows that strange, uneasy feeling and becomes this soft, warm safety blanket, the one place you go to feel right, to feel you belong right where you are at that moment.
Yeah, I’m sure of it: There’s nothing more romantic than seeing Mr. and Mrs. Smith slowly walking toward the sunset together, sharing their lives, letting each other know exactly how they feel, all through the simple act of holding hands.
That’s an experience well worth the wait.