When I was younger, my mom and I would walk to the grocery store together. We would leave after lunch when the sun was directly above us. I'd tie up my shoes feeling proud of myself and we'd walk into what seemed to feel like a ten kilometer hike.
I would look forward to walks like these, it was a special time for mom and I. I would share secrets, ask questions and glance at the greenest scenery. But what I cherished most, was when my mom would tilt her head down at me and hold my hand. I would squeeze her hand, almost making it a competition on who can hold who tighter. All the way home, we would giggle and squeeze our hands together making me feel like the luckiest little girl.
Now I've grown up, I find myself spending most of my minutes with him. Yesterday, I looked out my window at street lights and confetti coloured snow. Nostalgia fluttered into my bedroom as he laid his hand on mine. With the most gentle touch, he squeezed my hand tighter and pulled me closer. He brought me back to a memory that had made me feel the safest and most loved. That's what I've always been looking for.
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Very well written. Keep up the good work!