tonight you reminded me of a scene in one of the stories from ‘when we were very young’ that she and i read again recently. it’s one i’ve seen quoted before, but i’d forgotten the context. it’s more poignant in context. even though, at the moment, i can’t remember the exact context. but the general context was that pooh and piglet are walking in the hundred acre wood, and there is something kinda scary going on (perhaps it’s when they are looking for the heffalump?) and this conversation ensues:
“piglet sidled up to pooh from behind. “pooh?” he whispered.
“nothing,” said piglet, taking pooh’s hand. “i just wanted to be sure of you.”
when i’m unsure or frightened or sad or blue or lost or misty or crumpled or wrong-headed or weary, it feels good to know that i can always reach out my hand in the dark and pat around to make sure you’re still there, and feel your hand take mine, and softly squeeze it lovingly and reassuringly.
it’s one of my life’s great comforts, and you probably know how grateful i am for it. but maybe not. so i’m saying so, now. for posterity.