as i left the gym today i was behind an ancient couple walking slow as molasses….holding hands. they were probably in their eighties and he clearly had difficulty walking, but she patiently held his hand and walked by his side. isn’t that what we all want? someone who will still hold our hand when they are more than capable of running ahead. someone who looks at us and can’t remember what their life looked like before we were in it. someone who doesn’t see our broken body, but looks into our eyes and remembers when we could stand strong and proud. if need be, a person who gives us permission to slip away to our rest. a person who has lived through many good and hard times. a partner that has become a welcome companion to hold our hand and get us into the car if we can’t on our own anymore.
i know i have found a dear friend to hold my hand. he looks at me with eyes as deep as oceans that i could swim in forever. he still thinks i’m funny long after the room has stopped laughing. he tolerates my meanness, like a kid waiting to get to the chewy center of a tootsie pop. he let’s me think i’m in charge. he has always let me be me and almost always liked me that way. a person can’t ask for more than to know when they stumble there will always be a hand outreached to draw them to their feet. i’m a reckless whirling dervish that never stumbles but falls flat out… loosing a tooth here and there, and he finds it charming.
he thinks i’m cute.
….and i’m the luckiest.