It's a sign of intimacy, connectedness, and commonality. It says, "I am with you and you are with me and we are going somewhere together."
When Ethan and Ezra were very small we held hands all the time. And we felt no shame.
But the journey that parents and children take together is a strange one. Like it or not, we parents must teach our children to do the one thing that is most difficult for us - to let go of our hands and take hold of the hands of others.
It happens slowly. Usually it's subtle...a little tug, a little pull, and his hand and mine swing separately. And I say to myself, "This is simply what happens...let him go." But it still hurts a little each time.
This is why I treasure our morning walks to school. It is not uncommon for Ezra and I to hold hands as we walk down G Ave. It is about what I would expect from a five year old.
But sometime between five and seven, holding hands with dad becomes something you wouldn't do in front of just anyone. That is why I still feel surprised when Ethan slides up on the other side and quietly slips his hand into mine.
In those moments I feel happy...just about as happy as a dad can get. But it is a quiet happiness because I know that these moments are fleeting, and before too long they will probably cease altogether.
But for today, I am content to walk hand in hand with my two boys.
And for those people passing us on the road in those early mornings, I hope they catch the great life metaphor that we are. I hope they think that maybe, for a moment, life is as simple as a dad and his boys walking down the road together...holding hands.
