A Finger to Hold

My heart surges
when you wrap your tiny hand around my finger –
holding so tight and not letting go –
sucking so hard to get enough milk
while you look around with those big brown eyes
that lock onto mine –
making me smile at you,
which changes the shape of my eyes –
and that makes you look even harder at me,
so I talk to you
and tell you what a beautiful little baby you are,
and how your skin feels soft like a cotton ball –
and you have so many amazing days ahead of you
where you’ll grow up
and play outside in the rain
and make muddy footprints on your way back into the house –
creating a trail that says I am here –
you’ll go to different schools
where you’ll sing on the stage
while I barely contain my excitement
at how clever and talented you are –
you’ll meet new people,
some of them will like you and some won’t, but that’s okay,
because you are strong and know who you are,
and I’ll always be incredibly proud of you,
and you will know to be proud of yourself too –
you’ll have exciting experiences,
and go to far-off lands –
maybe sitting in front of the Eiffel Tower
with an easel and brushes,
a croissant and espresso by your side,
meeting your one true love
and deciding it’s time to settle down,
because you won’t be able to imagine your life without them in it –
and then one day,
you might decide to have children of your own,
and you’ll stare down at them
while they hold on tightly to your finger,
making your heart surge
as pride takes over
at the perfect little human in your arms.