HOLD MY HAND
“The hand expresses what the heart already knows.” – Samuel Mockbee
I don’t remember his nice words or the compliments he gave me, nor do I remember his flirty texts, his Instagram likes or the roses he sent. But, I do remember the first time his hand brushed my cheek, the first time our hands touched ; the first time he held my hand through my pain. I also remember the first time his hands yelled at me ; the first time his hands cheated on me ; and, the first time his hands stopped loving me. His hands, unlike his words, never deceived me. They were always truthful to what he was and what he felt.
Truthfulness. What I aspire to every single day. And yet…
In today’s world, where texts have replaced hand-in-hand walks in the park and where social media “likes” have replaced kisses, there is little place for genuineness. How many times did we write a comforting message to a friend, instead of holding such friend’s hand? How many times have we looked at our phones while walking next to a person we love, instead of holding this person’s hand? How many times?
Not to say I haven’t myself been a victim of such a phenomenon, but I always wonder how different my life would be without a screen separating me, my life, and my feelings from reality. Is it that our generation has become lazier? Or is it that we are afraid to put ourselves out there and really feel. Yes, I do remember the time his hands stopped loving me. But, what I remember most is the time he combed my hair with his hands while I was laying on a hospital bed. And that, is worth everything.
I know, I know, how hypocritical, you’re thinking. You’re even thinking “she probably has no time to meet her friends, has 13k followers on Instagram and likes every dog picture her best friend posts on Facebook”. Yes, you’re maybe right (although I promise you, my Instagram is not full of selfies taken in front of my bathroom mirror). But, I never said I was an example to follow. I want to change.
I want to use my hands to share a handshake with a stranger, to cook a meal to a friend, to hold my newborn baby, to give food to the homeless, to play music to sick children, to go through his hair while watching a movie, to love him, all of him, to wipe his tears, to laugh, to cry, to live. I want my hands to express to the world what my heart already knows.
by Diala Abouchalache