I boarded the plane, and the seat-back TV was staring at me.

“Touch anywhere to begin.”

It seemed straightforward enough, but the command made me think of my long-running streak of singledom. I snickered a little as I turned the words around in my head. I’d never before known instructions to seem both risqué and innocent, both naughty and nice.

Instead of touching anything and making a digital beeline to the moving map, I pondered its direction.

Touch is essential. To establish an emotional connection, the heart needs to be touched.

To help, lend a hand with a gentle touch.

To care for, extend a hand with someone’s best interest in mind.

To show love, wipe away tears throughout the decades, cradle a face despite the wrinkles and draw close in a warm embrace.

I’ve let touch which lacked good intentions be the start of a “relationship” before, and every time I have, it inevitably ended. Touch fueled by nothing more than the physical can often fail miserably, and for me it has.

Touch. It can be heavy-handed or well-meaning, and the latter is certainly the better place to begin.

Tonight I am thankful for the seat-back reminder about the power of touch, and for knowing that being touched by an act of caring is one of the best ways to start any sort of relationship — friend or more.