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To us, when we're young, the world seems like such a big, cold, scary place. Some of us grit our teeth and somehow manage to endure it on our own. Most of us, though, don't get by without a hand for us to hold.

Whether it's a parent, grandparent, other relative, or perhaps a trusted family friend, we have a person who guides us through life's important journeys and makes sure that we don't lose our way. Someone to stay by our side, comforting us in times of distress, ensuring us that there's always peace and calm after the storm. Someone to shield us from harm. To make us smile, even in the most awful moments. To talk sense into our heads when our minds start filling up with rubbish. When we need assurance, when we need affirmation, when the world starts shoveling dirt on us and we need to feel like we're worth something-- all we need to do is take hold of that person's hand. Once we do, all our troubles seem to melt away, swept up in the wind with yesterday's dust.

Then we grow up. We learn to take care of ourselves. And, because the world demands that we puff out our chests, stand proudly on our own two feet and walk our own path, we let go of that loved and trusted hand. That person holds our hearts forever, but we step out from his or her shadow and fling ourselves headfirst into life's challenges and puzzles.

Some of us grit our teeth and somehow manage to endure it on our own. The rest, like me, silently wish that we still had a hand to hold.

We find ourselves in a dilemma. We keep our chests puffed out and put on a brave face. It's what everyone expects of us. But without a guiding hand to steady us and give us a gentle, comforting squeeze, life as a grown-up sometimes seems chaotic and daunting. We have adult bodies, adult minds, and the physical strength and mental capabilities that accompany them-- but they're not enough to get us through the hustle and bustle of a ruthless, unforgiving world. Despite this, we feel too proud to run back to our parents or whoever used to hold our hands before. We're grown up now, we tell ourselves... too old to clutch at Mommy's apron strings or Daddy's coattails.

Then someone unexpected and new comes along. Someone who's lived a bit longer in the world than we have, and is wiser than us because of it.

For me, that person was Vamp, my teacher. He didn't offer his hand, but I took it anyway-- and thankfully, he hasn't objected. (I hope.) One day, I'll grow strong and clever enough to let go. And when I do, I won't just walk on my own path. I'll fly. I'll ride the breeze, dart into the clouds and sail into life's storms with a carefree laugh, because he not only held my hand.

He helped me find my wings.