your hand in mine

Saw this sweet pairing walking into town today. The guy was all gruff, tugging her along and looking out for traffic. The wee lass was blissfully in her own magical world as she was being led. I love the contrast of the grown up sombre clad patriarch and the tiny colourful sprite at his side. Hand in hand.

I loved walking with my children's hands in mine. The feel of their small bones and smooth skin. That pure connection. The squeeze you would get if they were anxious. I felt a Protector. A big yin there to take care of them. It felt easier when their hands were so small in mine. They are now teenagers with teenage problems and of course I still feel protective of them. But not in the same way, when they were wee and all mine hand in hand down the street.