Under his wing
July 14, 2001at 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.
I'm Christine, and this is a slice of my life—a sweet, rich, wildly indulgent slice that would taste really good with a scoop of Breyers vanilla bean ice cream. Read more >>
I run a darling, friendly, little graphic design studio.
I look on the bright side.
I take photos. Lots of photos.
I wish on stars and on websites.
I built my first web site 7 years ago and got 15 seconds of fame. (It changed my life.)
I launched, then relaunched, an online magazine.
I admitted to several embarrassing crushes.
I consumed more bacon than any human should and lived to tell the tales.
