Hold My Hand... I Want You to Hold My Hand

 I hope that this blog title inspired a few lines of Hootie and the Blowfish to play in your mind... that was certainly my intent!

Hand holding is something I've observed and experienced a lot here at Ricks.  First, I'll start with some observations.  Hand holding here is not limited to little girls holding hands as they walk the halls at school.  Here, hand holding is done by students of all ages; girls with girls and boys with boys.  Of course, there is also the girl-boy not-so-platonic hand holding that happens, although technically PDA of any kind if not allowed here at Ricks!  Aside from the typical boyfriend-girlfriend hand holding you would find among any junior high students, I have been surprised by the amount of older students who hold hands on a regular basis with members of the same sex.  Older boys hold hands with boys, and older girls hold hands with girls in much the same way I'm used to seeing little girls do.  It's as if the hand holding says, "c'mon, I have something to show you!" or "Hey friend, let's go!"  There is nothing self-conscious about it; it seems to be a natural expression of friendship and camaraderie.

Perhaps all this hand holding is so striking to me because of my own experiences surrounding hand holding.  Those who know me best know it is not something I have done much of in my life.  It is certainly something I have wished for, and I still look forward to the day I find that hand I'll be holding when I say "I do" (etc., cheesy and cliche, yet true).  So hand holding is something special to me, something that shows love in a very visible way.  Yet, I find that, even without that special hand to hold, I am not short of hands in mine here.  Each time I walk down the hall I am surrounded by children grabbing for my hands or my arms.  I always felt special holing the hand of one small child at home; here I feel I could be an octopus and still run out of hands (assuming an octopus had 8 hands to go along with its tentacles...).  I have been amazed my the number of little hands that can simultaneously be held in mine.  I think 4 or 5 hands at the same time might be my record so far.

And I love it.  I love holding two little hands as we walk all the way back to my house, even when doing so means we are all sweating just a little bit more.  I love that with my hands I can greet the kids around me, those I know and those I don't.  I love that I don't even think about what little hand it reaching for me; I just instinctively take the little hands in mine and continue walking.  I love that holding so many hands feels natural, normal, instinctive.  I love the way Steven (age 4) always plays with the skin between my thumb and my forefinger when he holds my hand.  I love the way the little girls look at my fingernails as if they are foreign objects.  I love the shock expressed by one child when she looked at my palm and exclaimed, "it's red!  you're red!"  In short, I love holding hands.

Ann Elizabeth took the picture I've posted here, and I think it's a great summary of my daily hand-holding experiences.  Multiple little hands, never enough of mine, but, somehow, we make it work.  This is something I know for sure I will miss when my time here is over.