Maybe I Didn't Hold You All Those Lonely, Lonely Times, And I Guess I Never Told You, I'm So Happy That You're Mine, If I Made You Feel Second Best

--"You Were Always On My Mind (cover)", Pet Shop Boys

The first thing I thought when her hand grabbed for my hand and held it was the fact that she really did have the softest hands I'd felt in some time. She had told me it was so. She had warned me that all that hand washing and Monk-like obsessiveness about her hands had left them unbelievably supple. It was true. As I held them waiting in line at Chang, it didn't really feel like I was holding them as much as preventing them from completely melting through my fingers.

The second thing I thought when her hand grabbed my hand and held it was the fact it had been awhile since anyone had held my hand. A corollary to this fact I found was the fact that I rather missed having my hand held, a fact I didn't know to be true up until that point. It never occurred to me that I was missing it or that upon revisiting the sensation I would react in such a manner, but it was true. Ever since Illessa left back in May I haven't had much opportunity for much human contact, friendly or otherwise. Even then, she wasn't exactly the touchy-feely type so the few times signs of affection were shown, they were brief and without any lingering effects. Something as innocuous as handholding would have seem overly sentimental to both of us. Thus, it was rarely done. But, there in Kentucky of all places, I had to be taught that even the smallest display of support or friendship is nothing to be trifled with. Any small touch can elicit feelings of joy when one has grown too used to being without it.

I don't know--I go through most of my life thinking that skin-to-skin contact in everyday interaction should be frowned upon. Chalk it up to coming from a somewhat stoic family life or being rather shy as a kid, or possibly just the notion that those kinds of acts should be saved for people who I actually give a damn about. I think of shaking hands or kissing someone hello as much as laying my coat down for a woman to step over a puddle. It's supposedly the sociable thing to do, but it's not in my usual pattern of behavior. I actually can remember plenty of occasions where I've bristled at being intentionally touched and they've all resulted from the shock and surprise of somebody actually laying their hands on me as well as the awkwardness I feel at not knowing how to respond. There are a few people with whom it seemed natural to hold hands, hug, or kiss in public at the drop of hat--Breanne, Tara, DeAnn--but they are all people I loved and cherished. As aforementioned, with people I deem special I can give out such special human touches freely. That seems natural to me. That seems right.

But what of Toby holding my hand in line? What was I to make of that?

I made of it like I was supposed to make of it. We were hot. We had reached a lull in the conversation and she's never struck me as the type to be introverted when it came to her friends. She may be a lot of things, but she's a normal person when it comes to reaching out and being friendly with people. Not overly friendly, but friendly enough to know that her friendship is genuine. I'm the weird one. I'm the one whose first thought when it comes to people being spontaneously affectionate is trying to figure out their angle. Most of the time holding someone's hand leads to the thought they expect something of me or they want me to do something for them. I'm paranoid enough to question the motive of every single action someone takes in regards to me, especially physical ones. I'm sure it showed on my face on that afternoon. I'm sure she felt the apprehension at first in my grip. I don't know if I tried to pull away or just hesitated affirming my hold on her hand, but I'm confident she could feel that it wasn't natural for me.


I'm sorry, I was blind

Yet held it I did. No, we didn't go marching through Six Flags, parading around like a pair of giddy schoolgirls. But until the line resumed moving a few minutes later, I held Miss Marion's hand and for a few minutes I remembered what it's like to have a friend you actually see in person. I remembered that, while words are nice and all, sometimes people need to be reminded that they're cared for and about in purely physical terms. I'm never going to be a hugger, but that doesn't mean I don't like to be hugged. I'm never going to be someone who pats someone on the back or hi-fives someone first, but when it's offered to me I never refuse. I guess you could say that I got used to being on my own, but I'm never going to accept it as my fate.

Sometimes all it takes is one clever girl to remind a person that there's more to life than keeping to one's self. Sometimes when somebody offers their hand, you've got to be willing to meet them halfway and offer yours because someday there might not be another hand being offered to you.

Soft, soft hands.

Like small miracles, bridging two people across all their differences, all their shyness and idiosyncrasies, all the history or non-history between them, all the bullshit that threatens to divide them. It's such a small act of caring that can mean so much to someone who's not used to being cared about in such a fashion.

Or maybe just forgot how.

Yours Swimmingly,
mojo shivers