Hands

When X was born, his fingers were so long and slender, balled up into tight fists. His hands were so, so tiny. He must have been fascinated by his hands in utero, as he had sucking blisters when he was born. He has continued to be fascinated by hands. He quickly re-learned how to suck on his fingers and thumbs, once he was in the world. For a little while, he would almost always gag himself, putting his fingers into his mouth too fast and too deep. Now, he is an expert with his chubby little starfish hands. He is a master grasper, he can reach and grab and pinch!

He is also fascinated by everyone else's hands. He has, almost since he was born, used my hands as his favorite toy. He would reach, grab my fingers, let go, reach again. He plays with my hands as he nurses or while he is falling asleep. If I lay him down in his crib, and he is tired, but fighting the sleep, I give him my hand to use as a lovey. He grips my fingers, pushing my hand away, then drawing it near.

I wonder what he will do one day with his hands. Will he be left-handed, like my father? Will he make things with his hands? Play an instrument? Perform surgery?

I wonder what X will do when he is a little boy, a teen, an adult. How will he use his hands? The future is so far away, but so terrifyingly near. I learn this anew each day, as X masters one more skill, one more communicative nuance, one more fine finger motion. I can't wait for his future, yet I want time to stand still, to stop the clock, bind its hands. I want to hold X's hand in mine forever, but I know that soon enough I'll be waving goodbye as he makes his way into the wide world.