Because no matter how wide you stretch your fingers, your hands will always be too small to catch all the pain you want to heal. Believe me, I've tried.
2026
I never felt very comfortable walking with Katy in New York City. She always followed the rule of holding my hand and staying close to me, so she never was lost, but I still couldn't help being worried about her being swept away in the sea of people or someone snatching her up. That worry only heightened the day she did let go of my hand, and I didn't notice right away.
"Katy?" I yelled, stopping in the middle of the sidewalk. I ignored the disgruntled grunts and groans of the people walking around me as I searched through them for my small daughter, only a kindergartener. Then, I saw her standing next to a man who appeared to be homeless who had a dog and a sign. His sign said veteran without a job. Will work for food.
I hurried over to her, and grabbed her shoulder to pull her away, until I realized what she was doing. She had her leg leaned against the building and was handing the man her peanut butter sandwich that Kurt had made for her this morning along with her apple slices and bottle of water. She took the shortbread cookies out and fed them to the dog.
The man just looked at her, not taking the food from her, so she put it down on the ground next to him and took my hand. "Hi Papa," she said, squeezing my hand.
"Katy, don't get away from me again, okay?" I said as we hurried away from the very confused man. I don't know if she noticed him pick up her food and start to eat as we walked away, but she didn't seem to mind.
"I'm sorry Papa, but his sign said 'food' and so I thought he was hungry," she said, holding my hand. "I just wanted to help. And he had a puppy."
