hands

Sometimes, sitting in his car just the two of us, as we drive to...i don't know...somewhere to eat most likely...I reach out to rest my hand on his lap. I do this almost instinctively now. As if to make up for the distance and time we spend apart every year, I try to be close to him as often as I can.

And sometimes, he puts his hand on mine. Like teenage lovers, he would hold my hand, and try to steer and negotiate the gear shift with his one free hand. I have to admit he's quite skilled at it by now. Sometimes he would bring my hand up to his lips, and plant a kiss or two.

I know this isn't really the kind of thing a person should blog about on a public blog. Especially since my family reads this. But bear with me.

It is moments like these which make me wonder why I travel so far away from him. The little things we share are probably what most other couples share too. But I guess the fact that they come once every few months, and then gets taken away always too soon, makes them seem a tad more precious. And I really treasure them.

Sitting in his car, driving off to eat, just the two of us, with my hand laced by his fingers in between my fingers. Sometimes all I can do is stare. At his hand clasped over mine. Wondering to myself, what could look more perfect?