Holding Hands

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When I was a little kid and I caught my parents kissing in the kitchen, I thought it was gross.

When our family went for walks around the block and my parents held hands, I was a little embarrassed.

And then one day, I met Steven.

I'm not sure how it happened exactly. I think it was at a stake dance when we were fourteen or fifteen, and the slow music stopped and I took his hand as we walked back to join our friends. It became a tradition, holding hands.

Twenty five years later, we still hold hands. With his left hand on the steering wheel, he reaches out to me with his right as we drive down the highway. We stroll through the park with fingers interlaced.

Our kids may be embarrassed by it, but I still enjoy holding my sweetheart's hand.

Happy 16th anniversary, Steven!

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