If anyone were to ask me what it felt like to hold this little hand, I would say, “The first time your grandchild holds your hand feels like a gentle breeze ruffling through the chambers of your heart–lifting and swelling like a deep sigh.”
His small hand was cool despite the low-grade fever he was battling from a recent “bug.” It gently rested in my hand for a short time. His next move was to reach for a colorful toy on the blanket to relieve some teething discomfort. Again. (At eight months, he now has six teeth.)
I could have held his hand for hours, but holding hands is a communion of two people, and he’s a little guy on the move. I could wonder what his little hand will do with time and the opportunities that lie ahead, but I don’t think those thoughts; those dreams and musings are for his parents. This moment was gone all too soon. I’m glad I was able to photograph it to be able to recall the sweetness again and again.
I will treasure the memory of sitting on a yellow blanket in the bright green grass at the playground, memorizing the feel of our hands resting in the loving embrace of the other. I am satisfied with loving this precious boy with all my heart, because I am his Grammy.