I'm back from vacationing at our family's cottage where I spent as much time as possible outdoors fishing, swimming, reading, shopping, walking and all manner of things with the fam. I also learned to play Bunco (watch out for mom and Grandma!) and Euchre (for the 5th time - thank you Melissa for being SO patient!). I was going to be a good little runner and writer while Up North, but the fish were calling my name. See?
So I was a little lax on the running and the writing... I ran a few times with my brother and sister-in-law's dog, but that was more like being dragged by a small steam engine or stopping abruptly when something extra interesting-smelling just happened to halt that bundle of energy. I'm sure we were quite the sight! As for writing, I took a rainy afternoon and wrote letters to a bunch of my out-of-state friends and in-state friends that I knew needed some fun mail. Who doesn't love getting mail that isn't a bill? NO ONE.
Anyway, one night while I was helping Dad pick up the last of the fishing stuff to take back up to the cabin, I turned around and saw one of our neighbors sitting on the dock. Mrs. and Mr. L-, an elderly couple, were holding hands and sitting on a bench at the end of the dock while they watched the sunset over the pine trees that line the west shore of the lake. That made me think of how my grandparents ALWAYS hold hands when they sit near each other. Then I thought about how Mom and Dad often hold hands at church or in the car. You see people in all stages of relationships, whether it's parent-child, friends or couples, holding hands. That's what inspired writing assignment #3. It's a bit choppy for a poem, but rhyming can be difficult. It's not all hat-cat-bat, you know...
Hands
When asked what is the most attractive thing about a man,
I always answer “a man’s best feature is his hands.”
Why is that they want to know?
“Because they hardly change as you grow.”
Sure they may get rough or later a bit frail,
But the touch, and the purpose never will fail.
Simply holding hands is what they do best;
Transferring feelings and meaning without stop or rest.
At first, reaching out is tentative and shy
To boldly take her hand or wait and let lie?
“Thank goodness for horrible scary movies!
She grasped my hand when the film gave her creepies.”
A while later her father walked her down the aisle,
He gave her hand a pat-pat and he smiled.
He passed his daughter’s hand to the groom
Where love with honor and faith then bloom.
A quick squeeze of the hand and a wink sends an offer
Of activities more passionate and much, much hotter.
This leads to holding hands with tired awe and respect
As they lovingly count ten tiny fingers so small and perfect.
Through the years they offer support, comfort and care
Through triumphs and deaths they applaud and they bear.
No matter what happens his hands never change,
Never falter, always there, his hands stay the same.
Someday, but not yet I’ll sit on the end of a dock
Holding his hand as the waves gently rock.
We’ll hold each other sure as the sun slowly sets
And know that this moment is the best that it gets.
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