Tiny fingers around my giant one. The first time you reached for me. In that moment, I am sure. Sure of what I can provide. Sure you are safe, Sure you are loved.
Little fingers gripping mine. One step, two steps, get your balance. Almost there. Oh the freedom these steps will bring. Needing to reach for me. I am there. I am sure. You are safe. You are loved.
Always holding hands. Together we walk. You instantly reach for me. Uppie Mommy. Reaching for me. Always reaching, knowing, trusting. I am there. I am sure. You are safe, you are loved.
You run, you play, you spin, you laugh. Then you return and you reach for me.
We are walking, the street is near, we’re talking and walking, instinct, you reach….. put your still tiny hand in mine. For you it is a habit, for me it is electric. That feeling of you, trusting me, needing me, holding my hand.
My mind races. When will the moment come when you no longer reach for me at this street, any street? I swallow hard, you look up, you smile, I smile.
How do I keep you reaching…..reaching…..reaching?