We can still hold hands

At nine years old, I know my days of snuggles, hugs and kisses, and holding hands with my son are numbered. That is to say, I hold no illusion that he'll be letting me give him a kiss goodbye in high school. At least not in public. For now, though, I relish these times when I can hold him and reassure him, kiss him goodbye before school, and have him reach for my hand when we walk together.

This morning on the way to before school care, we were walking in like any other morning. This morning, though, his hand felt different in mine. It felt stronger, fuller, bigger.

Me:
"Look that that, your hand is almost as big as mine. Some day it will be bigger than mine."
Fred:
"We can still hold hands when it's that big, right?"
Me:
"Yes, we can, baby."
Fred:
Smile, look of relief on his face.

And he kissed and hugged me goodbye when I left.

This moment was brought to you by love.