Your finger

Dirty, calloused, and scarred

Seemingly out of place in my tiny newborn hand

My tender grip slowly softening your heart

 

Your palm

Bigger than my entire head

Supporting my fragile body

Holding me with a strong, yet gentle embrace

 

 

Your fingers

Now only three times bigger than mine

Wrapped around my fist as we play

Enjoying making memories of thumb wars

 

Your thumb

Loosely trapping my small thumb

Allowing me to wiggle it free

As I continue to struggle to win the war

 

 

Your palm

Today only twice as big as mine

Attempting to keep me out of your pocket

So as not to let me get the candy bar you put there

 

Your fingers

Bending backwards from my pulls

Not causing pain, but releasing soon

Just to see the smile on my face while I enjoy your little gift

 

 

Your hands

Still slightly larger than mine

Full with my favorite pop and candy bar

Because you wanted to treat me after a long day of chores

 

Your fist

Brought right into my face; opening ever so slightly

Just so that I could see the fireflies you caught

While enjoying our rewards on a lovely summer evening

 

 

Your fingers

Now only a little longer than mine

Still giving a firm handshake

Even though there is a noticeable tremor

 

Your wrist

Getting slightly twisted

As you pull me in for a hug

Because sometimes a handshake is not enough

 

 

Your hand

Always just a smidge bigger than mine

Now with tubes coming out at odd angles

Laying in a hospital bed surrounded by family

 

Your wrist

Pinned by soft restraints

Because you pulled out your breathing tube

Your determination to have it out both inspiring and scaring us

 

 

Your hand

Cold against mine

Laying so still and unresponsive

All of the color drained from each square inch

 

Your fingers

Partially interlaced with mine

But not wrapping around my hand

Never again going to embrace me like they used to

 

 

Your hands

Folded with each other

Laying on top of your chest

Closing the door as I take my very last look at them

 

 

 

Your hands

I know they are there

Even though I cannot see or feel them

 

Your hands

Sometimes in the small of my back

Other times intertwined with mine

Guiding me through my life

 

Your hands

Along for the ride

With me through every step

Pulling me out of my low points

And pushing me towards the high moments

 

 

But no matter who comes into my life

Whose hands attempt to help guide me

Whether on my back, my shoulder

Or interlaced with my own hand,

No hand

Will ever replace

Your hands.