The toddler tears are plenty, the whines of wanting to go outside. Off the couch mama, his hand grabbing mine.

For only a season will I put out my hand to have it quickly filled with that of a smaller one created by me.

Amidst the tantrums of a little boy, I can forget the yearning I once had to feel my hand filled with that of a little one.

But here I am today, outstretched hand and the soft baby fingers of my firstborn who quickly grabs it.

I am thankful for these little hands. The hands I never got to hold are forever on my heart, left there as a reminder to treasure those I do get to grasp.

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