Your Hands

Your hands are my past. They are living proof of the passion betwen your father and me. They are the visual reminders of the sweet flutters you drummed out in my tummy which I can still feel when I think of them. They are the fruit of my labor, literally. What seemed like an agony that would never end produced the most perfect little hands the world has ever seen. Your hands are my past.

Your hands are my present. They are smooth, as if you are wearing small satin gloves. Your hands grip the tips of my fingers and send shockwaves of love to my heart. Your hands are dimpled, chubby, strong, curious, expressive, and often slobbery. Your hands are everything that any pair of happy little hands should be. Your hands are my present.

Your hands are my future. They will write wonderful thoughts onto paper. They will build incredible ideas into tangible magnificence. They will praise God, lead others, move mountains. No matter what I will always be proud of your hands. Your hands are my future.