<a href="http://www.halfwaytonormal.com/wp-content/uploads/2009/01/73056234_80b6273d38.jpg"><img class="alignnone size-full wp-image-232" title="73056234_80b6273d38" src="http://www.halfwaytonormal.com/wp-content/uploads/2009/01/73056234_80b6273d38.jpg" alt="" width="433" height="293" /></a>
<h5 style="padding-left: 270px;">Photo by <a href="http://www.flickr.com/people/katietegtmeyer/">Katie Tegtmeyer</a></h5>
Jason managed to get his hands on a "keepsake" copy of <em>The New York Times</em> yesterday. When you think of all the powerful inauguration day images the <em>Times</em> had at their disposal, it's interesting to see <a href="http://www.nytimes.com/2009/01/21/us/politics/21inaug.html">the photo</a> they chose to feature, front and center.

I absolutely LOVE it.

The first thing you notice, of course, is the expressions on the faces of Michelle and Barack—particularly how they look in contrast to the serious, grim, white faces around them. (I realize the Obamas have reason to smile, and the secret service people have reason to be serious. It's still a nice contrast.)

<strong>But my eyes were quickly drawn to what I love best about the photo: the Obamas' gloved, clasped hands.</strong>

Check it out. Olive green and black leather, firmly intertwined. And the way Michelle's left hand reaches over to hug the arm of the hand she's holding, just for emphasis? *Blissful sigh*

It's like a fairy tale to think that our President and First Lady might actually <em>be</em> as in love as they appear to be. They might even inspire a national renewal of loving marriages and affectionate acts—of gazes that take the time to lock, and of whispered words that inspire a smile.

There's also something else I love about this photo of the Obamas. I look at it and I think <em>I know what that feels like.</em>

No, I don't know what it feels like to be the stars of the Presidential Inaugural Day Parade, or to have thousands upon thousands of adoring fans clapping and yelling and even crying as I walk by.

<strong>But I <em>do</em> know what it feels like to hold the hand of someone I love—to feel that reassuring pressure that says you're all right, everything's all right, we're in this together.</strong> I know what it feels like to be so in love that you need to be physically connected; and then even after you are, it doesn't quite express how you feel, so you hug the arm of the hand your holding, too.
<h4>Mission #1: Converting my man to a hand-holder</h4>
When Jason and I met, he actually had an aversion to holding hands. Let me be clear: Jason is the warmest, most affectionate husband and father around. Remember, he came from the womb of the longest-hugging-mother ever. (You can <a href="http://www.halfwaytonormal.com/?p=225">read about her here</a>.)

There was something about hand-holding in public, though, that felt uncomfortable to him. It seems to stem from the fact that the woman he dated for a few years before meeting me was anti-hand-holding, in a big way. He was conditioned to think it was silly, so I've had to gradually reverse those effects.

<strong>Like the best minor relationship struggles, our hand-holding issue became an inside joke for us. </strong>Once, early in our relationship, when Jason was trying to explain how he felt about hand-holding, he said it would be different if we were traveling and didn't know anyone. "I'd be happy to hold your hand in Manhattan," he explained. (As he recalls, my dry response was "Don't do me any favors.")

Now Jason is mostly over this problem, but we're still sharing a secret, in a small way, when we hold hands. That's why it was extra funny that we ended up holding hands on the local news last week. We actually grabbed hands and started rather exuberantly swinging our arms when we noticed the camera, not thinking the clip would actually be used.

<em>(It's really not worth watching, but if you must, you can check out <a href="http://www.wicd15.com/newsroom/top_stories/videos/wicd_vid_44.shtml">this clip</a>. We're crossing the street together, about halfway through, and then I'm interviewed about how cool it is that our town is getting Zipcars.)</em>

It's not like we hold hands all the time when we walk. Usually, we don't. And, in general, I'm not a huge fan of public displays of affection. There are certain forms that are clearly over the top.

It never seems to fail, when I'm working on my computer at a cafe, that some long-lost pair of lovers (who in reality have probably been apart for all of three or four hours) is reunited, mere inches from my elbow. I live in a hormone-raging university town. This kind of thing happens a lot.

But there's definitely something special about hand-holding.
<h4>Remembering what it's like to be a child</h4>
When I look at the picture of Michelle and Barack, and I think about my own strong desire, at certain moments, to hold my husband's hand, it makes me wonder what exactly is at the heart of that impulse.

As is often the case, my children trigger the light bulb in my mind and point me to the truth.

<strong>We never forget, it seems, what it was like to feel small and lost in such a big, confusing world. We never lose that deep urge to feel physically connected to someone who loves and accepts us, and is looking out for our best interests.</strong>

It's something we never grow out of, even as we grow up, and maybe grow out of hand-holding for a while, then begin to see it as a romantic expression. I think as adults, every time we hold a hand we're brought back to that same emotional place.

This tweet, which I wrote at 3:15 p.m. on January 16, after walking my girls home from school, seems the perfect closing image:
<p style="padding-left: 30px;"><em><span class="entry-content">my kids are growing up so fast. I'm very glad to at least have one who still automatically reaches for my hand when we walk together.</span></em></p>