|Hold My Hands|
It was a frigid winter morning. The temperature hovered in single digits, and mist was in the air.
It was half past seven. Walking briskly towards the bus stop, I saw them ahead of me. Both of them felt the chill of the early winter morning, just like me.
He wanted her to hold his hands. Although she would have loved to do hold his hands, the cold weather was making it difficult. To escape the cold, and the potential warmth of his hands, she crossed her hands across her chest and continued walking.
He was disappointed. He tried to hold her hand again, but to no avail. Ultimately, he too had to bury his hands in his empty pockets and trudge along.
The winter was winning.
I walked past them in a minute or so.
As I crossed the road, I made an assessment about the winner in this situation.
I was sure that cold would lose.
And within a few moments, after I had crossed the road, they arrived back in my sight.
She was holding his hands - nice, tight and warm. Cold had indeed lost.
A mother's warmth & affection for her son had won over the icy cold.
Hold My Hands Reviewed by Vyankatesh on Tuesday, January 20, 2015 Rating: