a mother, smiling, her newborn baby wraps tiny fingers around her thumb. she knows she will love this baby with her whole heart. and she sits there awhile, small fist still clinging to her thumb.
and her baby is growing up. she's two years old, and, balancing herself on two small feet, she moves her pudgy legs forward, taking her first step still clinging to her mothers hand.
and now she's six, and she starts kindergarten today. she's timid, and she cries when her mother removes her hand from the firm grasp of the child, sending her off to school.
she's in third grade now, and her mother squeezes hand in the parking lot, little girl whining the whole time, because nobody needs their mom to hold their hand.
she's in middle school now, and she has a boyfriend, and her boyfriend kisses her on the lips, and he holds her hand in public, and her mother doesn't hold her hand in the parking lot anymore. and if her mother tried, she wouldn't let her.
she's in high school now, though, and her mother has fallen ill. and the little girl isn't so little anymore. and she holds her mothers hand one last time as she lays lifeless in a hospital bed, the heart monitor flatlining.
