Phil and I will
celebrate our 22nd wedding anniversary on August 9th of
this year. He was only nineteen years
old when we met, and now he's been my husband for half of his life! On his dresser sits a beloved picture taken outside
of our college dining hall just a few months after we began dating.
In the photo, I have long, straight black hair with thick bangs. He has bushy, curly blonde hair.We are both wearing faded jeans and tennis shoes. I know exactly what we were wearing even without seeing the picture because I remember when the photo was shot. He and I were walking hand in hand, when our friend with the camera yelled, "Smile!" Phil dropped my hand, put his arm around me and grinned. Now, over twenty years later, Phil still holds my hand. Or is it that I still hold his? Who is really holding whose? Hmmm.
When our youngest son, Connor, used to walk with his Dad or me, he would reach for a hand. He would snuggle his small hand into our larger ones. He burrowed; we grasped. Even if Connor let go, he would still be held. Again, who is holding whom?