Last Friday my father and my grandfather went to a walk in the afternoon. I joined them later. Then my father stopped by the fruit shop and grandfather and I walked on, back to home. There was some muddy patch on the street and grandfather held out his hand to me to support him, so that he may not slip.

At that moment as I held his hand, I remembered when I was a child, he used to hold my hand while we were on the street; and now after twenty years, we have switched sides. And while I was holding his hand, I said to myself, the good thing and the blessing is that we are still holding hands of each other; it does not matter who needs a hand and who is holding out one!

It really made me feel something, hard to explain. I thought of sharing it with you people.

Thanks for listening!