Holding Hands

This morning #1, #2, and I crossed a street holding hands. On my one hand, #1 commented on a large truck parked in one lane and blocking traffic. On my other hand, #2 was skipping and singing about crosswalks (#2 makes up songs about anything that appears in her visual field—moments earlier we had enjoyed a ballad about red traffic lights).

When we got to the front door of the coffee shop, #1 held it open for an older couple. The woman leaned over and said to me: “It’s lovely to see that. Always be there to give them the hand that they need.”

Trust me, I will.

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