In our marriage, Jody and I usually held hands as we walked along.  She died ten years ago and I miss the touch.

I was in a brief relationship a year ago, and I held hands with the woman some, but I felt she didn’t really want to.  “Sort of” is no basis for a long-term love.

In the wee hours of this morning, I awoke from a lovely dream.  An unknown beloved and I were holding hands during a long walk – sometimes the palms cupped together and sometimes the fingers interlaced. 

We met people in the neighbourhood and stopped to talk, our arms dropping to our sides.  And then we were off again, our hands finding each other.

It was lovely.  It was real.  It was for a long time.  May it happen for me during the waking hours as well.  Before I die, please.