Today when I hugged you, I noticed you had to bend your body to lay your head on my shoulder. When did that happen? It was so gradual I guess I didn’t really see it… Like when the sun rises or sets, or what they say about the frog in the boiling water. Right?
Today when I hugged you, I closed my eyes and I thought back to how it felt to hold you as an infant. When your whole body could lie across my shoulder. The nights I spent pacing in the dark, your head on my shoulder. My hand cradling the back of your hair.
Today when I hugged you, tears welled up in my eyes while I remembered how it used to feel for us to embrace. Your small arms wrapped around my thighs, my waist. Your head tipped back to look up, up, up at me. Your small, sweet smile then.
Today when I hugged you, I didn’t let go. I cradled the back of your hair. I tried to let the moment last. Forever, if it would.
Every version of you was there, today when I hugged you.