at the airport this morning, i saw a dad and his boy standing in line to get a cup of coffee. the boy, no more than 5, kept wandering off, but his dad took the child’s hand and brought it to his hip and said, “hold on to my pocket.”
there was something so tender about that moment: tiny fingertips grasping the edge of a denim pocket, knowing that all he had to do was hold on and he would be safe.
i think that’s all anybody really wants. somebody to tell us to hold on to them and we will be okay.