Purple Hands

"I loves to hug up, period, she say. Snuggle. Don't need nothing else right now.
Yeah, I say. Hugging is good. Snuggle. All of it's good.
She say, Times like this, lulls, us ought to do something different.
Like what? I ast.
Well, she say, looking me up and down, lets' make you some pants.
What I need pants for? I say. I ain't no man."
                 -- The Color Purple  by Alice Walker

Today as I was walking back to my apartment, for some reason this is the thought I had: "All I really want is someone to hold my hand." It's kind of a strange thought to have out of the blue, but not so strange that I didn't know where it came from.

I love holding hands. There is something about it that seems so intimate, so meaningful, so safe. When you're a little kid, you hold your parent's hands. When you are having a bad day and end up on a friend's couch crying, she holds  your hand. A group of people gather in prayer, holding hands. To hold someone's hands is to share a connection, a small moment in the middle of lots of other moments.

I love hugs for the same reason. So maybe I just need someone to hug me and hold my hand. I think that's why I was drawn to the little excerpt from The Color Purple. The exchange is between two friends who are laying in bed together, both are married, though not happily. They share a bond with each other that is beautiful and broken and messy, as all friendships are. Maybe that is part of the beauty of friendship. Despite the messiness of it, you can't imagine not being a part of that person's life.

Until next time, I want to hold your hand.