It was small, still a child's.
I tried to act like it was nothing, looking out of the corner of my eye.
I felt little butterflies inside, this kinda feels like the first time a boy ever held my hand. The magic. The wonder.
As he grows taller, past my shoulder. His legs never ending and skin and awkwardness and smiles and teeth. I try to suppress thoughts of me ever not being enough for him. Of me ever embarrassing him, of me being his MOM.
We are about to walk into a school event and he's taken my hand. He doesn't care. I squeeze it tight. I never want to let go.
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