New World Family

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05/20/12

Baby Hands and Baby Feet (FACE)

There are two pairs of baby hands and baby feet and Francis counts, just to be sure, ten fingers, ten toes, that means they’re perfect! and he holds them in his arms, safe, secure. Baby hands hold onto grownup fingers and baby eyes blink up in fascination, as grown up lips curve in adoration.

The grownups walk up in front, hand-in-hand, and tiny feet step into big footprints in the sand and tiny voices declare, ten toes, hey look, we match! and Arthur says, We’ll race you to the waterside, and tiny hands reach to grasp because tiny feet sometimes stumble but big hands are always there to catch.

Little hands leave dirty fingerprints on kitchen counters, smears of flour and maple syrup, and big hands are there—two pairs—to scoop up little squirming, laughing bodies and take them to the bath, where foamy bubbles are blown from curling locks. Tiny, soapy palms press into big ones, laughing because the big hands look like they could swallow theirs whole and a grownup voice says, It’s amazing how something so different could be cut from the same soul.

And many, many years later, more years than you could count on ten fingers and ten toes, grownup arms embrace and grownup hands hold on tight. Wrinkled hands hold on, too, but not as tight, because they have to let go and grownup hands brush tears from wrinkled cheeks and wet voices say, We’ll miss you, you know.

Old hands hold new flowers to lay by old stone and old (but not so old) voices say, that sometime in the distance that’s much too far away, we hope our baby hands will once again hold onto your grownup fingers and that we can sit right here, under this tree and delight in the fact that we have ten toes, ten fingers. And not just your hands, not your smiles, your fingers, your toes, but your love would swallow us whole, us four little pieces of the same little soul.

05/20/12

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