The Father’s Hands

Current mood:  contemplative

Most mornings when I go to work, I take the most direct route along a major thoroughfare to get there. Some mornings when I’ve left at an adequate hour, I can stop and get coffee on the way at my favorite little coffee spot. When I do that, I take a route that meanders through the neighborhood instead. Almost without fail, I see a man walking his two sons to school. The two little boys seem very close in age because of their size, like five and three or six and four. I always smile when I see them because the father walks in a pace that the kids can match and he’s holding one little hand in each of his hands.

This morning when I saw them, it was the thought of those two little hands resting securely in each of his hands that struck me. Generally a mother’s hands provide care and comfort. Yet it is a father’s hands that provide security and safety. When I see the family of three walking together, I think about the security they must feel walking hand-in-hand with their father as they face a new day outside of the home. In their world, he probably can stop a car, take out a bully and send a vicious dog yelping for help, all without letting go of their hands. This gentle transition from the known comfort of home through the chaotic world outside of their home is one of the best gifts that this father can give. Later in life, they may not exactly remember these moments but I will. I call it love.