(this one is the first 'super-short' story i remember writing as an adult. And it's special for that reason-a little bit like first love you could say)
SOMEWHAT MAGICAL
He hated holding hands. Totally silly, he had always believed. He had never understood the funny connection it had with security, no matter how hard he tried.
As a kid, it had been his little sister, tagging along all the time (even when he had wanted to hang out with the other boys and throw stones at each other), holding on tightly to his hand as though her life would be in peril if she didn’t. His mom didn’t help the cause either, with those constant reminders of “ hold your sister’s hand and DON’T let go till you’re safely home.” Girlfriends hadn’t been any better. He remembered sitting in the car, one moonlit night in August. A normal 17 year old with normal needs- he was waiting for that ‘ first kiss’ -something to swagger about to his other not-so-lucky friends. But all he’d got (in the beginning) was a gentle sigh and a tight squeeze of the hand. It was supposed to be romantic, his sister’s verdict; but he refused to go with that.
That was 10 years ago. Now- he’d almost forgotten the feeling. He had gotten married to the only girl he fell hopelessly in love with. She was sensible enough to understand, and importantly, not complain about his ‘strange quirk’ as she called it. They’d gotten through three years of marriage with other displays of affection- and he was happy enough to live with those.
Today was going to be one of ‘those days’- a high point in his life, something special-that’s how it was supposed to be. He was happy, of course he was. But he didn’t exactly feel like doing a tap dance on the roads. As he wound his way through the milling crowd to ward no.10, he couldn’t help but wonder what his reaction was going to be.
It was pristine white everywhere-and somewhere in all that white, a pink bundle was kicking desperately, and screaming its lungs out. He reached the destined spot, and clumsily thrust out a hand- to feel, to touch….his creation. Something soft reached out, ever so slowly, towards his fingers. He followed the movement, suddenly fascinated by all that magic he was beginning to feel around him.
The pressure was….endearing, the only word he could think of, amidst all those tangled thoughts. And as he stood, looking over his baby, holding onto his index finger, as if for dear life-he fell in love for the second time in his life. And like before-it was forever.
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