Hands

I find myself lost in your tiny little hands and I realize you won't be my baby girl for long. Ten ridiculously tiny fingers have given way to chubby round ones reaching and discovering the world all around you. You're growing up far too quickly, Tory Bean, that I know for sure.

Lately as I lay you on your changing table, those adorable hands grab onto my shirtsleeve with a strong hold. You hang onto me tightly and I feel like you're trying to tell me you need me. I reassure you, letting you know I'm right there. Your face lights up with your sweet, gummy smile.

You've started to caress my chest with your precious fingers as I cuddle you in my arms. It makes my spirit leap as you slowly move your fingers along my shirt, my neck, my heart.

Two baby hands are growing. I watch you motion for toys on your activity mat. Soon you'll be shaking a rattle between your fingers or waving bye-bye to everyone you know. Not long after you'll be crawling around the living room, using those hands to guide you.

Those sweet tiny hands, full of wrinkles and creases.

Today I memorize what they look like for I know this moment will pass us by too quickly.