Spirographs and Me

Years ago my parents had a house fire. It was a complete loss. All the boxed up toys and books of my childhood are gone now except for the memories of them. And last night one of those memories came to me. I loved my Spirograph. It was probably my sister’s but I spent plenty of time aligning the wheels and pins. Enough time that making Spirographs is a dear childhood memory.

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Giving Spoons

Say the word “Spoons” at a dinner party and you are sure to get varied responses based on folks’ experiences or mood. The married couple and the person living with a chronic illness will definitely have very different interpretations of just what a spoon means to them. And as of yesterday, “spoons” means something a bit different to me as well.

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Holding Hands

Not much tops holding hands.  Seriously, think back to all the times in your life when you’ve held someone’s hand in yours.   There is a reason we teach children to hold hands when crossing streets or  heading out into the world. Holding hands makes us safer, stronger, bigger.  Such a little action but such a mammoth  effect.  For that reason, so many occasions are marked with a handhold.

The first time you held hands with your sweetheart.  The last time you held hands with your grandparent.  Holding the hand of a 285 pound football player as his eyebrow was stitched closed.  Holding the hand of the passenger sitting beside you during a terrifying plane ride.  Holding the hand of a stranger at a peace vigil.

Holding someone’s hand is powerful.  Because holding someone’s hand is a connection with them and with yourself.  And for that, the handholders of this world have the power of the world in the palms of their hands.

My handholders?  It’s a special list.  It includes the obvious folks as well as some you’d never guess and whom I can never name for various reasons.  But it is a pretty special list, and one I’m pleased to say is longer than shorter.  Each handholder has made my life better for having been in my life and connecting with me.

And one of my primary handholders is my Littlest.  The other day I asked him if he knew what my favorite thing in my whole day had been.  His answer?

“Holding hands with me on our walk?”

He was right.