I remember when I was a little girl and my dad would take me on walks, or sometimes just outside to play. One day we went for a walk in the park and I was so excited.
We walked for what seemed like miles, but it felt like nothing because he held my hand the whole time.
My dad never told me where we were going – he just knew that I always wanted to know!
Where are we going, dad?
Miles turned into minutes as his nimble fingers wove through mine while at our leisurely pace – their grasp firm enough not to let go of each other’s hearts yet ever-so gentle not to break anything fragile inside ours.