Holding Hands

 

Most of what I really need
To know about how to live
And what to do and how to be
I learned in kindergarten.
Wisdom was not at the top
Of the graduate school mountain,
But there in the sandpile at Sunday school.

 

From Robert Fulghum's poem, "All I Really Need to Know, I Learned in Kindergarten," it goes on to say that we should share everything, not hit, clean up our own messes, sing and dance, play and work, and ends with, "...hold hands, stick together, be aware of wonder."

 

I have spent parts of May and June with a new granddaughter and have become, again, aware of wonder. She holds my hand when she eats; her hands are perfectly formed and chubby. She grabs my finger with a grip that is surprisingly strong. She doesn't want to let go.

 

Months ago, we wintered a few weeks in Arizona where I re-connected with my childhood friend, Donna. We hadn't seen each other in years. We met at a restaurant for early morning breakfast. In the parking lot, we hugged and, then, walked into the restaurant holding hands. I didn't want to let go.

 

My husband (of 46 years) and I often hold hands when walking. The day will come when neither of us will want to let go.

 

Robert Fulghum's poem has a lot of worthy advice; however, my favorite is "hold hands, stick together, and be aware of wonder."

 

Grab someone's hand today and be aware of wonder.