“It seems only yesterday I brushed my hand over your newborn skin.
Thin as a whisper.
Soft as a breeze.
Your tiny fingers wrapped around my thumb and squeezed.
My breath hitched in my throat, because in that moment I realized your little hands had the delicate strength to mold my whole life.
In the years between, those little hands have let go of my own to rake through the sand in your plastic sandbox.
To grasp the branches of trees you’ve scaled.
To manipulate tiny blocks into Lego masterpieces.
To grip the monkey bars as you made your way through the playground.
To steady you up mountain paths.
To pull yourself up rock walls.
To pack a bag for overnight stays away from home.
To scroll through your iPhone.
And, of course, to wrap around that ball.
That ball you hold from the time you wake in the morning until you make your way to bed at night.
Today, your hands are larger than my own.
Their gentle softness has been replaced by bold callouses, boasting of years spent conquering boyhood.
And, while those hands have guided you on your own journey, I relish the moments they find their way back to mine.
Today, I reached over, wrapped my little fingers around yours, and squeezed.
My breath hitched in my throat as I waited.
You squeezed back.
And in that moment, I knew our bond was unbreakable.
You are, and will always be, my baby boy.”
This story was submitted to Love What Matters by Mehr Lee of Raise Her Wild. You can follow her journey on Instagram and Facebook. Submit your own story here, and be sure to subscribe to our free email newsletter for our best stories, and YouTube for our best videos.
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