Big folded hand around your middle

Hold me tight, grandma.  You say as I set the story book aside and snuggle up for a nap with you.  As tired and sore as I am from keeping up with you, its these precious moments I hold dear.  My hand easily slips around your t shirted tummy.  My hand slides halfway around your middle, folding around.  The feeling is incomparable.  Its slides me back to years of cradling hundreds and thousands maybe of babies and preschoolers, then more recently your daddy, Uncle Alex, and baby you.  Familiar, comforting, special; the scale , the angle of wrist, warmth of your body on my fingers and bent arm.  I’m particularly aware of us as I fall into sleep next to you.  Tighter, you mumble. Ahhh. gma

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