Intens(ive) Care
When one's life hangs on a thin piece of string and one finds themselves swinging between two parallel worlds, one notices strange things. I look at my hand here in the Intensive Care Unit, it's wishing that another hand were holding it just then. That moment. Well that long, painful, sleepless night I did get my wish granted. The Sister in charge of the Intensive Care Unit came over just before she finished her night shift and gave me the biggest mumsie hug ever. It turns out, it's the past that connects us all.
["Life","Illness", "hug", "connection", "Death"]
Andrea
Thriving
I love holding hands with someone who is in need of good energy or love and guidance - someone who feels happy, overwhelmed, excited, anxious, lonely, poor, discouraged or even sick. I love to give back all the good energy that has been passed on to me by the ones who love me - simply holding hands with the one who feels unloved.
["Joy","Wonder", "Love"]
Yasmin
The Marathon
"The race begins at 35k." That's what they say about marathons. It was a bit later than that, at 37k in my first London Marathon, that I encountered Simon the blind runner, led by a guide whose name I did not know.
With 5k left of a marathon, you think all sorts of things "Just 5k left, that's not far... it's only a parkrun... I can do that in 20 minutes... when I haven't already got three hours of running in my legs." That's the real pain started – heavy legs, sore back, an effort to even stand up straight.
Simon was just ahead of me. On his singlet: "Simon – Blind Runner". The crowd, five-deep along Victoria Embankment cheering him on his way up to Big Ben. He slowed a little as we rounded the corner onto The Mall and spotted Buckingham Palace. "Go on Simon" they shouted, and he picked up the pace. I followed.
We neared the finish line and the commentator spotted Simon. "Here comes Simon, with his guide Leslie – They both get a medal".
They raised their hands, attached by a tether. The noise from the crowd swelled. I slipped across the finish line behind them, stopped my watch, and staggered to the nearest volunteer to get my medal.
The London Marathon, with its crowds and bands along the route, is the loudest race I've ever run. It's an overwhelming experience in the best possible way.
I wonder what that sounds like without the visual context. I wonder what it's like to put your complete trust in someone to guide you through the crowds, around the slower runners and over the discarded bottles that pepper the course. I wonder what stories Simon and Leslie have of the other races they've run.
We went our separate ways after the finish and I didn't get a chance to ask them.
There was blood on my shirt. Chafed nipples are a common injury for amateur male runners. I cleaned myself up and changed my clothes, had a coke, then wandered off to meet my family. As I walked, I thought about how to explain my bleeding nipple to all the people who saw the race photos. I need not have worried, though – they were more interested in Simon and Leslie.
["wonder","achievement", "challenges"]
Wil
Parents can be cute too
When I was about 13 or 14, I was going somewhere with my mum and dad and my friend Laura. Laura and I were scuffling along behind my parents, as kids do, and my mum and dad, who would have been around the age I am now, were holding hands.
My parents had been together since they were teenagers, and they were (and still are) very inclined to be joined at the hip.
Laura looked at them and then turned to me, "I would be so embarrassed if my mum and dad held hands when they were out". I looked at my parents. Like most kids at that age, I cared what other people thought, especially my close friends. Not this time. I knew she was wrong. I knew that that comment was actually pretty sad.
I knew, strongly and deeply, that it was pretty cute that my parents still held hands.
["family","friend", "growing up"]
Rosie
Forward looking
This year I’ll be completing my 6th decade on this planet. I still love to hold hands as much as I did when I was completing my 6th year. Back then it was with my dad or grandpa mainly. Now it’s with my consort (which is what me & my other half have jokingly decided to call each other as none of girlfriend, partner, etc. feels quite right).
I have every intention of holding hands as we do until I’m ancient and have a Walt Whitman beard down to my knees and I am up to my eyes in wisdom.
I am a lover of Simple Pleasures and this one - walking hand in hand - is right up there with the smell of cut grass in the summer and the taste of a kiss.
["father","grandfather", "consort", "lover", "simpe pleasures"]
Adam Gee
A trip to the newsagents
When I stayed over at my Nan’s when I was little she used to take me to the local newspaper to buy sweets on a Sunday morning. One time I must have come out of the shop a few moments after my Nan. Still clutching my small packet of ET biscuits I saw my Nan up ahead in her blue coat and leather gloves.
I grabbed her hand with mine and jabbered on to her about something or other as we walked a few paces until I realised she hadn’t said anything. I looked up. I wasn’t holding my Nan’s hand but the gloved hand of another lady, a total stranger! Before I could say anything my Nan called my name. She was stood at the entrance to the shop a few yards back and when I ran back to her feeling mightily embarrassed she opened her arms to give me a big hug and let me know it was ok.
She held my hand in her gloved hand as we walked past the lady I had mistaken for her, and we all shared a gentle laugh at my innocent mistake. Then me and my Nan went home and had home made chips and watched Fraggle Rock.
["grandparents","grandmother", "family", "growing up"]
Noel Goodwin
Tiny hands
My best friend and I have started holding hands in the last few years as a sign of comfort for each other when we're having a tough time. We both have male partners and aren't used to holding other women's hands. When we first held hands, we were so surprised how odd it was to hold a small hand and now call each other 'tiny hands'!
["friends", "women"]
Charlotte
A mother and Son
I Have a kind of eczema that you have from birth, rather than being dry flakey skin (though I had that too), my skin doesnt really know when to stop growing, so I have dry rough skin that results in fingers that are lined like someone who is late in life.
I remember the way my mother would hold my hand when we were crossing roads and in my inner monologue I imagined how she must hate it, how awful these hands must be to touch. But I remember one time, when we stopped on the street for one reason or another, and she took both of my hands in hers and pressed them so softly and gently I felt as though *my* hands were soft and gentle, and for a moment I let go of that inner voice that said they were ugly and un-holdable.
["family", "growing up"]
Alfie Dennen
Too big to hold hands
For a little while my son wouldn't hold my hand because 'he was a big boy', it was so sad. Recently he started holding my hand again. The first thing I noticed was how much bigger it was - but still a little boy and still soft and still squeezing tighter or more lightly with every little thing going on in his head. Sometimes I close my eyes and try and capture it - like a photograph you can feel: because tomorrow, if he lets me hold his hand, it will be a bit bigger. It will be different.
["family", "growing up", "sons", "mothers"]
Ellie
Circle complete
Two weeks ago I rushed back to London to see my grandmother before she passed away. Over the weekend she slipped away but I held her hand and I knew she could feel me there as she had a few lucid moments. It was strangely peaceful. She held my hand when I was a child, and now I was holding hers in her final hours.
["grandparents", "grandmother", "grand-daughter", "family"]
Sharon
This boy doesn't 'do' holding hands
Me and Richard had tickets booked to see Roger Waters at Hyde Park on 6th July, 2018. Two days before that I witnessed a man end his life by stepping in front of a fast train. I was really anxious of the thought of getting on the train there and back. Richard was fantastic with distracting me. I had warned Richard that I may become a sobbing mess with them playing "Comfortably Numb". Richard held me all the way through, and then when it came to leaving Hyde Park, he held my hand all the way out. I had to get a photo as this boy doesn't really do holding hands. Super precious memory for me.
["partner", "lover", "anxiety", "help"]
Kelly