hand in hand

Rare is the walk where I don't eventually feel a little hand comfortably slip into mine. 

Sometimes it's sweaty.
Sometimes sticky.
Sometimes clammy.
But it gives me a secret little thrill every time. 

Because my boy is not holding my hand because of a "hold my hand while we cross the street" command or a "if you can't stop touching things in the store, you will just have to hold my hand" discipline or even a "do you want to hold hands and walk together?" invitation.

He's holding my hand merely because he wants to hold my hand. As a mama, I LIVE for these unprompted moments of trust, affection, and simplicity. 

I know one day that little sweaty/sticky/clammy hand will slip into mine for the last time. And I won't even know it's the last time. So I let myself revel in each moment. Feel the emotions. Take the pictures. Create the memories.

This life is everything I imagined it would be.