The Thing About Hands

I don’t know when it happened.

That makes me sad, in a way.

Happy for her—that’s she growing and developing and advancing.

Like she should.

But sad, that somehow, someway, over the past couple months, in that fog of sleep deprivation and the busyness of life, I didn’t realize it was happening.

I didn’t stop to just take it in.

To breathe in her growth.

This learning to hold things seems like a little thing, to everyone else.

But to a mother—to her mother—it’s huge.

It’s the smallest, most incremental, most monumental milestone.