Yesterday morning, my heart skipped a beat. Fingers interlaced with mine and clung tightly while another hand reached over to squeeze my wrist just for a second. I looked down at where my son's fingers alternated with my own and saw the loving smile on his freckled face as he let go of my wrist but still clasped his hand together with mine and thought to myself, "That is the best feeling in the world."
You see, my son is ten years old. We were in the hallway walking toward his classroom before school. There were kids and teachers everywhere. I love that he isn't the slightest bit embarrassed or self-conscious about holding my hand and giving me a kiss goodbye when I leave. I know this will change, and probably in the very near future, as his teen years are swiftly approaching, but right now I cherish this voluntary and uninhibited closeness. That tight grasp that comes so easily and naturally to him speaks right to my heart.
That flood of emotion got me thinking about the simple gesture of holding hands. God, it's powerful! That most basic form of physical connection and shared affection. It can hold comfort, security, solidarity, hope, forgiveness, promise...in a way that nothing else does.
Maybe I'm just a sentimental fool, but pop music through the years supports me in this. The Beatles sang about holding hands making you "feel happy inside" in "I Wanna Hold Your Hand." And when he was still known as "Hootie," Darius Rucker issued an invitation to a shared life in "Hold My Hand." So, I'm pretty sure it's not just me who thinks holding hands is pretty special.
Horrific events like the bomb attacks at the Boston Marathon wound my heart and leave me shaken to the core. And I confess that what I long for most in hours of confusion, frustration, and despair is a hand to hold--a touch that assures me that someone else shares my pain and is there through it all.
I know that for some it's a simple, casual gesture that may not hold any meaning at all, but I believe that the ability to hold the hand of a child, a parent, a lover, or even a friend, is something precious. It's a connection that some people never have. Treasure it when you do.
One of the best things about living on a little island in Southeast Georgia is the ability to go to the beach. Another wonderful thing is the moderate weather. Today, when some of my friends in the northern Midwest states got snow, I had an overcast and drizzly morning, but temps in the 70's. Our community pool will open in 2 weeks and there's no doubt that we'll be ready to head there on the weekends to bask in the sun. Yesterday, I read a blog from a travel writer about how lucky the local residents are to live here. She's absolutely right.
The sound of the ocean, the smell of the salt marsh, the kiss of the sea breeze on my skin, and the feel of my toes in the sand are the very essence of my soul. The beach is where I go to find my balance. When I get too far into my head, I need the vastness of the ocean to remind me that there is something so much greater than I am out there. The ebb and flow of the tide assures me of life's steady rhythm. The sparkle of the sun and the reflection of the moon on the rippling surface are pure magic to me.
But even when I live only minutes away from the beach and know that I need that calming force in my life, I still have not made the effort to make sure I am there to walk in the sand and dip my toes in the surf every day. I have other things to do. I'm too busy. It's cold, overcast or raining. No. These are just excuses. I can make the time. I can wear a sweatshirt. I'm not going to melt.
So, today, while I sat and watched the waves roll to shore, I decided I will find at least one hour each day to spend at the beach. At some point during the day, whether a morning walk, an after-dinner stroll with the kiddo and some ice cream, or a bag lunch with "my ass in the sand," (Thank you, Zac Brown.) I am not going to take for granted what I have right here in my backyard. I am so fortunate to be able to live here and I don't want to forget that. Life is short and I need to enjoy and appreciate what I have each and every day. Simple as that.
And as I made this resolution of sorts with myself this morning, I also considered my abysmal attempts to post a daily blog. I can be better at that too. My beach time can also be my blog time. My beach walks are times of reflection. Why not catalog those thoughts? Random musings, introspection, deep reflection. No agenda. No theme. Surely there will be something suitable to put on a page each day. And so this is the beginning...
If you'd like to join me, c'mon along and read my ramblings. At the very least, I'll share some pretty pictures and you might get a chuckle or two.
(If you want to see more of the world I see through my iPhone lens, you can follow me on Instagram: kathissi.)
