She Runs A Good Race

mothering is a marathon

The Feel of Her Hand

on February 26, 2014

It doesn’t happen often.

She’s eight (“and a half, Mom”) now, and growing more independent.  Well, as independent as 8-year-olds go.Unknown-1

But when it does, it halts me.

The feel of her hand in mine.  The little soft fingers wrapped around my wrinkled adult hand.  Innocence and purity secure in my protection and love.

I’m not good at living in the moment, being emotionally present at all times with my children.  I try.  It takes effort. REALLY being cognitive about it.  I go, go, go.  I’m preoccupied with my to-do lists and their to-do lists, and the tyranny of the urgent.

But when she lets me hold her hand as we cross the street (rare) or at school (even more rare) or side by side at church, I’m all there.  I stop. I feel.  I relish.  I inhale the moment, because someday it will be gone.  Poof.

Until the day in the far-far-future when she says to ME, “Mom, take my hand now…”

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8 responses to “The Feel of Her Hand

  1. Jan says:

    Beautiful poignant touching

  2. Elizabeth Greskovics says:

    I so share your feelings on this one (and most, to be truthful! :-))! I try to imprint the feeling on my brain and soul when holding those precious little fingers!

    XO

    _____

  3. Katie says:

    Beautifully said!!

  4. Thank you friends! Just trying to capture the sweetness moments.

  5. Suzie Lind says:

    Oh goodness…tears.

  6. Dana says:

    This one hits home, Jess. I am in that phase in my life where I am reaching for my mom’s hand. She is now 88 and NEEDS me to hold her hand when we go out of her house. A role reversal has occurred where I am now playing the mom to my own mom who continues to get more fragile and childlike.

    In the meantime, I also cherish the moments when my kids still want to hold my hand or sit on my lap. They are fewer and fewer as we get closer to (gulp) ages 11 and 13…..

  7. Oh Dana….I know that phase with an aging or sick mom. I can still feel the intensity and emotion of the summer we cared for my mom. Her last summer with us. Gulp.
    Much love to you.

  8. A sweet moment beautifully captured with words!

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