He asked to hold my hand

This little boy has got my heart. He tugs not only on my hand as he takes me from room to room around the house to play, but he tugs at my heart strings, too. He’s tender, he’s kind, and he tells me he is brave. “Brave” he will say with conviction.

But even though he is trying to be brave, he is still a boy who needs his mama, and I’m glad. Because this mama still wants her little boy. After all, nowadays there is less rocking, the closeness of nursing is a distant memory, and cuddles are becoming fewer and farther between as he grows more independent day by day. But even though he’s growing, I long for those moments of just being close–the two of us.

The other day after he was hard at play for a while, we climbed in the car to drive home and there he was in the back. He suddenly said aloud, “Hold hand.” I looked back and there he was reaching for my hand. “Hold hand” he said again. He situated his hand just right and then he looked out the window-Just content- “cloud!” and “mountain!” he exclaimed.

It was this moment that I was so grateful for. For a couple moments my boy was back in my reach. Just him and I, and the clouds and mountains within our grasp.

“A mother holds her children’s hands for a while, their hearts forever.”- Unknown

He may not reach back and hold my hand for much longer, in fact, in a matter of a few short years, I don’t think he’d be caught dead doing that. But forever, we’ll be close. He’ll be my little, rascal boy, and I’ll be his mom–forever.