Hands and pinkie fingers

Hi again.

i went for a trail run this morning. i’m still slow.

i was thinking during this run (again) about hands. Not feet, hands. My hands were freezing! the temperature dropped about 20 degrees C from yesterday afternoon, and there was a nice chill in the air. Perfect running weather, really – unless you forgot your gloves. If John was here, i’d have placed my hands on the back of his neck and he would have sighed in appreciation for the cool down. He was always warm. When we’d be going to sleep, i’d place my cold hands (or feet) on his lower back. He did not sigh…teehee. He’d ask me how i functioned. Silly guy. He’d always offer to warm my hands and my feet.

John was a big hand holding kinda guy. We would go for walks, anywhere, really, and we would hold hands. i recall our neighbours – about the same age as us – saw us and the wife swatted her husband and asked him “Why  don’t we hold hands?!” we heard her say. John squeezed my hand at that moment. We smiled at each other. Bliss.

i was sitting next to an older gentleman a few days ago – octogenarian old – and i couldn’t help notice the age spots on his hands and how old, leathery and absolutely perfect they looked. John will never have old hands. i hate admitting it, but John will never get old.

His hands did so much. They threw heavy things, they gave out hearty handshakes, they offered warm hugs in combination with his huge arms, they gently petted cats, they carried the heavy stuff, they held the door open, they high fived after a good meal, they did this weird rubbing thing on the steering wheel when he drove (so much so, it left a smooth spot on the wheel). More importantly, his hands held my hands.

His hands also “pinkie swore” to my hands that we would would never be apart. We pinkie swore a lot. Never be apart. We were never supposed to be apart. But here i am without my love. Trying to figure out why. Why don’t “pinkie swears”  actually work?

Make sure you hold the hands of the ones you love and hold them tightly. One day, they might let go. You don’t want that.

Gotta Run.

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