Over this past weekend I took a trip to the city with Mom and Dad to see the car show when something struck me. No, not a car. What struck me was how much Mom and Dad hold my hand. Especially Dad. He held it almost the whole day even though I am 14 and know not to walk into traffic or wander off. It doesn't bother me, being 14 and holding Mom or Dad's hand, but one of Dad's patented "stranger interactions" that day got me to thinking. It wasn't the first interaction where a lost older woman asked Dad where Wills Eye Hospital was and he proceeded to tell her to go down two blocks and make a left and you will see it on your right. Immediately following up as only he does by asking her if she could actually see, because if she couldn't she'd have a problem. She gave him an odd look and then laughed realizing it was his unfiltered sense of humor. No, it was the second stranger interaction we had in the overly crowded Reading Terminal Market. We were at one of the busy intersections surrounded by cases of meats, people eating sandwiches and rows of produce and cookies. If you've never been there, imagine a 4 way intersection of criss-crossing tourists with not much room to navigate. It was smack dab in the middle of one of these intersections that Dad, holding my hand of course, was approached by a woman with a small mob of her children or grandchildren in tow all swarming around her as she stopped to get Dad's attention. Dad stopped, of course. She apologized for being so forward but sheepishly asked if I had "microcephalia", that was her word. Dad nodded in confirmation, but I could tell he was already pondering jokes about "microcephalia", the land where all microcephalics come from. Like the land of misfit toys. Anyhow, her inquiry was due to the fact that her nephew had "microcephalia" and she could tell I had it from.....my eyebrows. She remarked that her nephew had the same perfect eyebrows and how women would kill to not have to pluck their eyebrows to get such perfect ones, all the while nodding at Mom knowing she would get the whole eyebrow thing. Well it wasn't finding out that I had perfect women's eyebrows that got me to thinking about holding Dad's hand, rather it was when she said her nephew was in his late 30's that shook me. I forgot all about the bustle of bodies and her swarming brood surrounding us. All I could think of was being 30-something and still holding Dad's hand and that's when it hit me. Mom and Dad don't hold my hand so much for my benefit, but rather for theirs. I'm sure they wish they could hold Big Bro's or Big Sis' hand too, or just be as close to them as they are to me forever. But that's not how things work. I am sure lots of parents wish they could "hold hands" with their children forever, but unlike the children from "microcephalia" they aren't so lucky. So cherish any amount of hand holding your children, or anyone for that matter, will allow you to have because you never know when you won't have any hands to hold. And PS. The only reason I have eyebrows (plural) is because Dad shaves the middle of my unibrow.
