Holding On

It seems with the arrival of school holidays, somehow, incredibly, he has grown.

He is more than he was last week.

More bold, more brave, more silly, more tall, more talkative, more shy.

More.

And I find myself almost desperate to hold onto his littleness.

{stop, little one, please stop}

Holding on and squeezing, almost suffocating him. {Is this what my parent’s felt?}

And letting go. Again and again.

To wherever life takes him.

{We’ll always find a way, little one, always}

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