Holding on by hand

A child walking holding on, hand in hand, to an adult -- mom, dad, or nanny -- is a lovely sight to see. In my neighborhood in New York I see many children walking or skipping with an adult who walks them to school and picks them up when the school is over. It then occurred to me that this is a sight much rarer in suburbia because children are chauffeured to and from school by car, and shopping is done without negotiating crowded sidewalks. The sight brings back the memory of my childhood. I had to stretch my arm high to reach up and clasp the adult’s hand, which was always so big, and I had to skip now and then to catch up with the adult’s gait. There was a wonderful feel of security, the assurance that I won’t get lost. Sometimes, in impatience, the adult will grip my wrist, and I hated that because it made me feel a captive; I insisted on being clasped by hand. I wish I found a medium-sized giant whom I can hold on by hand and recapture that sensation.