That first touch, so long ago, that touch of a ring finger over the thumb, slowly, gently, with great caution. Guarded for rejection and recoil, your senses high. Wonder and fear all wrapped in one. So different from Momma who wrapped you up and loved you in one. Foreign land now. A horrid and fearful land. A new one that pulls you and draws you, and you want, but you tremble. The lucky ones felt it, still feel it, still rejoice in it. The others, the lonely ones, want it, but never admit it, sometimes harden their heart to all. Then, a child, an innocent one, one without a false face or heart. The little one sees you, smiles at you, holds their arms to you, and your caution is gone, like the worst winter winds you cannot remember. The little one smiles at you. A wonderful touch. A Bridge to hearts. Winter is forgotten.
Published by ramblingsfromanunpavedmind
I embrace an eclectic life, tastes, and friends. I love to listen to people - to induce speaking of their past. Sometimes, their voices end in my writing. For grammar perfectionists, allow me to apologize in advance, as I write for the casual reader, not the professional. My passions include my family, music, working in electronics, mechanics, stone, and concrete. Better to know a little bit about everything than everything about one thing. Quote from Pascal. View all posts by ramblingsfromanunpavedmind