HOLDING HANDS

 As we get older, (I’m 70 next month and funnily enough so is my identical twin brother Chris, who was born 5 minutes before me) I reckon you get more sentimental and quite often more emotional. For example, I love to see older people holding hands in public and yet being young at heart and still in love - hope and commitment expressed. I smile when I see young kids at Te Uku Primary School, near Raglan, walking around the playground, holding hands and being so happy together - a simple joy. 

Recently Val and I observed our granddaughter Nova slip her hand into her mums hand and walk with Rebeccah to her car after a football game at Western Springs, Auckland. I think it was on the same weekend that her son Wynn while watching TV with me, quietly placed his hand on top of mine. 

Years ago, my mum Mary came to visit me at Silverdale Normal School in Hamilton. Mum and I held hands in the staff room during the morning interval break. I didn’t care what the staff thought. She was my mum. 

When two of our daughters were very young, we lived over the road from Atiamuri Primary School, north of Lake Taupo. Our two older daughters, Sarah and Rebeccah would go for long walks with me in the huge forestry blocks surrounding our village. I held hands with Sarah and Rebeccah was snug in my backpack. Such a simple way to offer reassurance and security as the light in the forest faded.