Your Hand in Mine

As I closed my eyes, a scene flashed before me.

You were going away. You were going away for a long time, it would be the longest we’ve ever been apart. We were scared. We weren’t used to it and we were unsure of the implications this had on us. My heart ached. It seemed like yours did too as your tears dotted the front of my shirt. We got to spend our last night together, sometimes not talking, just sitting side by side comforted by the presence of the other. During those quiet times I tried to memorize every sensation I had of you in my arms. I held on to every moment, thinking hard about every sensation, your face against my chest, my arms around your head and shoulders, the smell of your hair. Then the time came for you to go. That car ride was terrible in so many ways save for one. We held hands for that entire trip. As my world was crashing down on me your hand was entwined in mine. We exchanged just a few words during that time but what brought the most comfort was your hand. That was our rock and our foundation. At that moment, a peace came to my aching heart. I knew no matter how dark the place we were in, your hand would somehow find mine. It’s been more than a year since we’ve been together now and though the chances of me and you are nonexistent, the boy that held your hand is still in my heart with his hand out, hoping to catch yours.