My stepdad was just beginning to come out of the anesthetic after minor surgery. As I watched him regain consciousness, before he even opened his eyes, he reached for my mother's hand. A simple act, yet so profound. It was a straightforward, spontaneous reflex that said, I need you. I love you. I'm so glad you're here for me.

I remember the first time my husband reached for my hand. It was our first date, and we were at the Circle Theater in Indianapolis to see The Sound of Music. Somewhere between "Climb Every Mountain" and "Something Good," I felt him cautiously span the short distance to grasp my fingers, then hold on for dear life.

I didn't breathe for a few seconds, as I tried to keep my eyes focused on the big screen. Slowly, I relaxed and let my fingers curl into his. They fit perfectly.

Forty years later, that's how we go to sleep each night: holding hands. I don't remember exactly when we started this ritual, but it's one I cherish.

A recent study of how human touch affects neural stress release indicated that married women who hold their husband's hand feel instant relief from extremely stressful situations.

Tom DeMaio, a clinical psychologist in Charlottesville, North Carolina, says that he often recommends that couples hold hands during an argument. "It keeps them connected when they are trying to work things out during tough times," he says.

Sounds like a plan to me.

Real. That's how I feel when Barry and I hold hands. Sometimes I can't even tell where his hand ends and mine begins. We are one, as God meant us to be.