Whilst walking to school this morning Dylan was dawdling so I stopped, waited for him to catch up and I held his hand to make him keep up with me. We were walking at a rapid pace as we were a little bit late (Dylan will tell you it was because I couldn’t find my wallet but it was more to do with him not putting on his fucking shoes like I’d asked him to about 1000 times). Holding a child’s hand is such a simple thing but such a wonderful thing. It’s a milestone too. Evan is just at the holding my hand stage, he needs me to steady his wibbly wobbly walk. His arm is nearly pointing completely up as I hold his hand whereas Dylan can reach my hand with a loose bend in the elbow. It’s a thing of safety and of comfort. It’s a gesture of “I’m here and I’ll keep you safe” from me and an request for comfort, stability and take me along too from them. It’s protective. It’s caring. Such a simple act. A often neglected milestone. And as Dylan held onto my hand, hung off my arm, swung my arm and tickled my palm my mind wandered off. I started thinking about how I wished I could have had Eilys hold my hand like this, to feel the tension in her little hand, to have her squeeze my fingers. Part of the SMA meant that she would often keep her fists clenched and she could hold onto my finger or hand but not in the same way. And I know that Dylan won’t want to hold my hand forever and that one day the tables will turn and he’ll be the one hold my hand to steady me and to give me comfort. Something so simple. It just really made me think.
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