The look of pride on your face the night before as you stood before me, face freshly scrubbed, a fuzzy robe tied around you. You had showered all by yourself. I didn’t even help you rinse.
That time you stood on the back of the shopping cart, wild sweating hair, flushed cheeks, and I had almost cried because it was the first time I realized you didn’t look like a baby anymore.
You were getting older, more independent, and I wondered then how much longer I would have these moments where you wanted to crawl into my lap. I hoped you always would, but I also knew one day you might not want to.
I hugged you then. So tight. Up against my hot chest, heart thudding there, I held you against me willing that moment to never end.
“Yes, baby,” I whispered. “I’ll always hold you.”
Eventually you broke my embrace, you ran off in search of new adventures, and I watched you skip away while happiness hung around me thicker in the air than any weight humidity could muster. Perhaps, I mused, some days I missed the moments that wouldn’t last forever. Some days it was too hot, or I was too tired, but I hoped overall I would keep in mind the gift that I received each time you smiled your special smile, laughed your musical laugh, and asked me to hold you.
“Yes, baby. I will always hold you.”
***
This article originally appeared at BrieGowen.com, published with permission.
