When my children were just itty they would hold onto my finger instead of my hand.
I forgot about that.
I forgot for a while. And then I talked with an old friend today and she told me about being a little girl with her Dad and how very tall he was and how she would hold onto his finger. His one finger was enough for her little hand. And this bonded them in a variety of ways over the years. Some touching, some silly.
Thanks to my friend, it's suddenly quite easy to recall my own similar memories. My kids did the same thing. First as infants. That first grasp. That first interdependence, that first fastening. And then when they were learning to walk they held my fingers for balance. And then, like a fool, I let them go to walk on their own. Precious distance stretched between us. But I had to. We all have to. No other options are provided. Yet thankfully, some connection remained.
Ever think about the threads between us all? I like to ponder that. We don't really know what memories bonds us. We don't get to decide how others remember it, or us. We influence that dynamic but not much more. It develops organically. And worse yet, threads are fragile. They're itty too. Practically invisible. Sometimes forgotten until the thread is tugged. Or we can't stop the damn thing from fraying. Or maybe it snaps. But I sometimes wonder...is the thread stronger than we are? It just might be. Because when those we love leave our lives, when threads bond them to others and threads fix them to other places or even when we lose them, those threads remain. Right now, it seems to me, they must be stronger than we realize because right now, right now, I can still feel their pull from somewhere. From somewhere.
14 comments:
Vintage dbs. Beautiful, poignant and not overly sentimental.
And a great read.
Cheers buddy!
I have never been lucky enough to experience the 'finger grasp'.
Through one disaster of another my wife was unable to carry to mid, let alone, full term.
But I have always thought about how different things could have been and what ties I could have created to my son or daughter.
I envy you!
Those memories and ties are beyond price!
Nice. Feel the tug.
that finger holding business is so short lived and so precious.
Just this morning, I was thinking that something that happened over 50 years ago had a direct impact on where I am now and who I am now. While it doesn't have to be something specific or even earth-shattering, one small event can lead to a chain of other events which directs us to today.
I used to call it the road not taken.
But, you hit it right on the head. They are threads.
Well, I was BORN over 50 years ago. But, that would be too easy.
Writing about the transition from finger holding to hand-holding was one of the main reasons I started my blog. There's a lot of deep stuff tied up in the first reflexive grasp transitioning through to intentional hand-holding. I like where you've gone with threads, too.
Also, I'll always appreciate the grasp reflex because it meant I could play "pull my finger" with my daughter even before she knew that it was a hilarious game.
this post rekindled good memories.
thank you.
So glad you have strong threads to home, they are needed and appreciated
Thank you.
Sometimes all it takes to get the yarn going is a little "kick".
Can we negotiate once every 2 weeks for reading your writing?
nYesterday in the bath, Eleanore asked if she could have the water deeper than her bellybutton this time.
My other babies are not babies and dictate their own depth.
It broke my heart a little bit. Those little cracks in dependence.
My boys do that with my husband. Just one finger. It's the sweetest thing. Beautiful post.
Beautiful. Yes I believe, my opinion, that there are certain Threads in life that are eternal, and although not visible in many ways, they find a way to "wrap around your little finger", as a simple reminder that
It will ALWAYS BE
Thought provoking. One of the things I find interesting is that all of our memories are skewed and flawed so often things were not as we remembered although we act as if they were.
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