“Mama, hold my hand.”
Today while my son and I were hiding under the covers on my bed, he turned to me and said, “Mama, hold my hand.” The last word spoken in a slightly higher pitch than the others, almost as if he was asking me a question. I reached towards him and he slipped his soft little hand into mine and adjusted the placement until it was just right.
To understand the value these words hold for me, I would need to recount for you the first years of my son’s life in gruesome detail. Instead, I’ll leave it at – my almost three year old son rarely shows affection or desires physical touch – so this was truly a priceless gift of happiness.