This is my son’s hand on the right. It once used to fit into my palm. I used to play with his tiny fingers as I cradled him to sleep.
Now he’s a teenager. Tall and lanky. Taller than me. Soon he’ll be as tall as his father.
They say children are never ours. They are just entrusted to us for a short time to love and nurture. But I’m finding time is passing too quickly. He is growing up too fast and a part of me wants him to stay our little boy, safe in our arms for a little while longer.
But soon my hands will be old and frail. His will be strong and grown.