The Last Time He Holds Your Hand

Some memories you remember so vividly that it’s almost like savoring a piece of your mother’s homemade Italian Creme Cake, you can almost taste the sweetness on your tongue. I have those memories about each of my 5 children, but the memory that floated back to me today was about my middle child.

The Middle Child

If you ask him what it was like being the middle child he would probably tell you that he was the one who got left at school (just once) and left at church (again, just once). He might tell you that I would put him in “time out” and forget he was there. More than once he took a nice, long nap while he was supposed to be thinking about whatever it was he had done and he did plenty. He and his cousin set ink pens on fire in my bathroom. They played with charcoal and both got so dirty I didn’t think they would ever come clean.

And He Was Passionate

He loved wrestling so much he dressed like Hulk Hogan on 3 consecutive Halloweens. He loved Ninja turtles and wore underwear over his head as a mask while he karate chopped the air and yelled “Hi…..yah!” He loved to play jokes on me and once handed me a glass of golden colored liquid and said, “Mom, the toilet wasn’t working so I used this glass.” At first I was alarmed but it felt cold. I sniffed (brave or stupid?) It was apple juice.

Of our 5 children he was always the one who marched to the beat of a different drummer.

I Remember

It was a school day and he was 12 years old. I picked him up at school because he had a dentist appointment. We were walking up the stairs and about to go out the door when he slipped his hand in mine. It was a beautiful spring day and I remember thinking as we stepped out into the fresh air that there probably wouldn’t be many more times when he would reach for my hand. What if, I thought to myself, today is the last time he holds my hand? I swallowed the lump in my throat but I couldn’t stop thinking about it.

And it was such a powerful feeling that I still think about it.

First Time/Last Time

From the moment we give birth there is a first time for every baby, and a last time for every child.

A last time we breast feed.

A last time for a bed time story.

A last little league game.

A last time we hold their hand.

We don’t always recognize it as the last time….but we know it’s coming.

To The Mommas

So mommas, hold their hands as long as you can. Treasure each and every skip and hop in their step. Hug them tight and read them bedtime stories even when you fall asleep in the middle of them.

Because one day…..it will be the last time.

And I promise, you are going to miss it.