Five.
Enough to count each finger on a hand. A whole hand full of years.
Five whole years of motherhood, five years of Little One.
A handful isn't such a very lot.
But when I look back at five fingerlengths of years with this child, it feels heavy. It feels like holding the world, like holding a lifetime of joy and wonder.
What was there before those five? How did I not notice how empty my hands were? What did I hold on to? I can't remember.
I know that having held this small hand in mine, five little fingers in five weathered ones, feels like enough love to have gathered to make all of my many more years worth the while.
It's amazing how the smallest things can make the biggest difference. A handful of little years and I've been redefined; I've relearned myself and what living and loving means. Five years only, and yet I somehow know in my soul that the world has more light than it did when my hands were empty.
Someday I'll tick off more years on more fingers, and then She will be too big to hold on to. I will have to let Her go. Still I can't wait to see what each of those years will bring.
In the meantime, five is such a perfect number. Big enough to feel the weight of holding all that magic. Small enough to fit into my hand.
Enough to count each finger on a hand. A whole hand full of years.
Five whole years of motherhood, five years of Little One.
A handful isn't such a very lot.
But when I look back at five fingerlengths of years with this child, it feels heavy. It feels like holding the world, like holding a lifetime of joy and wonder.
What was there before those five? How did I not notice how empty my hands were? What did I hold on to? I can't remember.
I know that having held this small hand in mine, five little fingers in five weathered ones, feels like enough love to have gathered to make all of my many more years worth the while.
It's amazing how the smallest things can make the biggest difference. A handful of little years and I've been redefined; I've relearned myself and what living and loving means. Five years only, and yet I somehow know in my soul that the world has more light than it did when my hands were empty.
Someday I'll tick off more years on more fingers, and then She will be too big to hold on to. I will have to let Her go. Still I can't wait to see what each of those years will bring.
In the meantime, five is such a perfect number. Big enough to feel the weight of holding all that magic. Small enough to fit into my hand.
And here come the tears. You put it all so perfectly. Happy 5th birthday Little One!
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