your hands are still small


you let me hold your hand as we walked from your martial arts class on monday evening, sophie. you are a new seven year old. and although our hands seemed a bit unused to each other, and lay softly, casually folded together, my heart was so glad.

i'm not sure if that was one of the last moments you'll take my hand to walk down the sidewalk. 

and even though i didn't make a big deal about our hand-holding so as not to spoil the moment, i was jumping for joy on the inside. your hands are still small and fit inside mine.

and they're beautiful hands, my darling. just like the rest of you.

there will come a day when you won't want to take my hand when i offer it out to you. you won't want to walk next to me. cso i took hold of your seven year old hand and we walked into the humming soft-sunlight, finding space to walk together in awkward steps in narrowed sidewalks with varying strides, i made a memory: just one of many more times we will grab hold of each other's hands, but this one was special. 

because you're seven.

love you sweet one.