Page 10 - Holding Hands

Holding Hands
One winter morning, just before Christmas, my mother made an announcement that Winston had just been married the Saturday before. I never did learn how my mother always knew the latest news in town (and all the towns nearby for that mater).
Had my mother not made that announce- ment, I would have known soon enough. For on that very same morning, as I was heading out for the school yard, I had no sooner reached the end of our driveway when I saw Winston walking by. He was holding hands with a very pretty lady who was wearing a long, navy blue coat. She had dark hair that curled under at her shoulders. Her eyes were soft, and she had a slender nose; her cheeks were rosy red from the cold. I can still remember her face and that coat to this very day.
She waved to me and said a cheerful “hello”. I waved back and returned the “hello”; and as I did, I caught Winston’s eyes ever so briefly. I noticed a very proud yet slightly embar- rassed look in them before he waved and glanced down to the sidewalk.
All the way to the school yard that morn- ing, I remember thinking that Winston was the luckiest man alive to have such a pretty wife. I could understand why he felt so proud, and why he loved holding her hand. What I wouldn’t give to hold her hand too!
It wasn’t for several months before I learned that she also had the most beautiful name in the whole world: Her name was Adele.
10