When we get out of the car, I think about taking his hand. How long is it since we walked through the streets like that, declaring our union? We certainly did it in the early years, but I don’t remember when it stopped. Was there a day when he reached for my hand and I pulled away? Or dropped his hand to adjust my handbag on my shoulder, and then never picked it up again? Though we’re walking side by side, shoulder to shoulder, it seems too big a gulf to cross now. Too huge a gesture.
