Hands

I didn’t know that two of the most ordinary things could be so incredible. I didn’t know that I would pay so much attention to them, watch them grow and acquire precise movements. I suppose it is only so because they are yours.

Ten months ago I saw them for the first time. Black and white, two arms, two legs. You were real, not just the double lines on the stick. Then, over three months ago, I saw them in person. They wriggled towards your crying face, wrinkled and tiny. They grabbed my fingers in a firm, automatic grip as you grasped for some ground.

The dimples, the long fingers, the sharp and forever-growing-nails… I was instantly in love.

I hold them whenever I can. When we’re taking car rides and you need some moral support. When you repeatedly suck them with your mouth. When you entangle them in my hair. When you wake yourself up with your random movements. When you try to hold on to your own bottle but accidentally push it away instead. When I need to know you’re real, you’re my dream come true.

Human hands are very particular. We have developed the infamous opposable thumbs, which allows us to manipulate objects and use them as tools. Because that happened so long ago, we pay little to no importance to them at all. With your hands, however, I can appreciate evolution and watch their development, front-row seat. 

The reflex grip turned into a deliberate hold. And, just like that, those clammy hands that were home to every lint on its way, are now open, ready to take what’s in front of them and guide them into your exploratory mouth.