As I drove Robyn home from gymnastics tonite, I reached back towards her and she immediately put her small hand inside mine. It’s one of our little things we do. I reach back and she holds my hand, even if she is mad or tired, she takes my hand and I know she’s okay. Tonite it brought tears to my eyes. Her little hand fits perfectly inside mine, but what is so incredible to me is how strong that tiny hand is. It’s not soft and pudgy like it used to be. Her fingers are long and lean, her grip tight around mine. She holds my hand with purpose and intent. She tells me she is okay with one squeeze. When she is worried or stressed, she reaches out her hand for reassurance, and I hold it tightly in mine to assure her that I am there. When we cross the street she holds onto me, and my hand tells her she is safe. When we go to the mall together, we giggle and laugh and our hands swing between us as we walk, sharing our joy. Sometimes when I am sad, she comes to me and takes my hand in hers to comfort me. On Saturdays and Sundays we often nap together. Oh, how I love those naps. We lay in the middle of my big king size bed, almost nose to nose, Me and my firstborn. We get ourselves all cozy under the covers and then she reaches that little hand out to me and I meet her in the middle. We sleep like that for a couple of hours. Nose to nose, hand in hand. Even in sleep saying, “I will always love you as no other.”
brooke! i didn't know you had a blog!!! how did i ever miss this? i love it... i've missed you so much! :)
ReplyDeleteBeautiful!! Brought tears to my eyes
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