I’ve been conscious lately of the intimacy represented in hand to hand contact.
I noticed it first a few weeks ago when I was having a massage. Not as salubrious as it might sound, I promise, but there was a point when I was having my arms massaged and the masseuse - as part of the massage - slide her palm across mine. It felt strange but very nice. In a small part of my irrational mind I could have been convinced for that split second that we had a connection. Not so but that’s what a gentle touch of hands triggered in my mind.
Hands are a very sensitive place. I’m reminded of the slightly cruel joke you can play on someone where you subtly go to hold their hand. Almost instinctively they will respond by grasping yours only to realise that it’s inappropriate, embarrassing and a mean prank.
Again I noticed it when I recently went to visit my elderly great grandmother. She was very poorly, anxious and confused so I held her hand. Immediately she seemed to settle. It felt so comfortable. Her soft old hands and mine. It was very special.
