One of the hardest things to do is to take the first, timid, questioning step toward another.

Years ago, when Mr Darcy and I were dating, we had season passes to Six Flags. It was a great deal. We could go get a bite to eat and then ride a coupe of rides and have a fairy eventful date night. One night, after a last moonlit, slow train ride around the park where our hands brushed up against each other, we found ourselves tired and ready to go to our homes. As we silently walked through the parking lot, his arm neared mine. It was a crazy moment that seemed like it was hours long when actually the moment was like a swift intake of breath. He took a step closer to mine. Closer. And then…

It was the greatest moment when his hand reached for mine. He was reaching for me! Wanting to be connected in that way. We’ve never forgotten it, although it’s been 24 years since it happened. In that moment, it didn’t matter what my life had looked like before. It only mattered what happened after. Hands clasped together. A little squeeze. A smile.