I pull on my jacket and notice how I automatically hold the cuffs of my shirt so the sleeves don’t scrunch up. I’ve been doing this forever and haven’t a clue who taught me or when.
Suddenly I’m aware of so many things that someone taught me as part of growing up: Tying my shoes, buttoning a button, zipping a zipper, holding a pencil. Each task required some patient adult—willing to help an impatient child.
Willing to keep encouraging me to try and try again—those myriad adults—most of whom I cannot recall and probably never thanked.
Strange to reflect now how I thought those tasks were a path to independence. Instead, I realize I have depended on others every step of the way—and still do.
But I’ve finally figured out it’s okay to depend, to need—because others need me, too. On a recent afternoon, I helped my granddaughter to understand a poem. Then she helped me set up a Facebook page. A patient child helping an impatient adult.
So, I pull on my jacket, holding my cuffs, and remember how connected we are—each to each.
Each to all.