Wednesday, November 16, 2011
It's pretty easy to lose sight of true romance. I'm not talking about the well-worn clichés....the single red rose, or the declaration of love on the beach at sunset. I'm talking about simple gestures.
If you read a lot of romance/erotica, you're probably somewhat jaded. After reading a super-orgy scene with seven battle-hardened generals, a riding crop, and an unfortunate sex slave, you might forget that simple is best. (And probably a lot less painful).
For me, the most simple, sweet and pure gesture of love is holding hands.
People say that eyes are the "windows to our soul." But I think hands are the windows to our souls, our personalities, our lives. Do we have flashy painted fingernails? Cuts and scrapes from working in the garden? Ink marks? Marker smudges from our children? Chocolate under our nails from baking? Every wrinkle and scar are badges of honor. Our hands create, heal, connect.
There is nothing more romantic than that first joining of hands. Reaching for another. Linking yourself to a soul-mate. Exploring, tentative, this new union.
Joining hands is not just for romantic lovers. It connects parent and child, aged and youth, friend with friend.
There is certainly a time and place for lusty love scenes, graphically depicted. But when all is said and done, sometimes the best part of those scenes is the aftermath, when two lovers spoon each other in slumber, hands interlocked, souls finally at peace.
Off to the bus-stop with my daughter....holding her hand all the way,