|
Footprints On My Heart
Fourteen minutes after my grandson’s birth, the
phone rang and I heard his cry. That special sound tugged at my heart. I felt a
lump in my throat. Tears of joy tickled down my cheeks. Emotions welled up so
strong and unexpected. I could feel love oozing out of all my pores. A child of
my child, how fantastic. I felt an invisible thread pulling me towards the
hospital.
I saw a perfect head of blonde hair, and a tiny button nose peaked out of the
standard-issue, hospital towel he was wrapped in. I held him close. His mother
watched me watch him. I gave him a special green bear to love. He opened his
eyes and mouth, as he looked at the bear. My gift of love, a physical gift for
him to cuddle even now.
Tenderness sent a sweet gust through me. I was struck by the utter helplessness
and innocence of this wonderful, little boy in my arms. He was beautiful. I
inhaled the newborn smell, imprinting it on my brain. I touched his tiny feet
and toes and felt his footprints walk into my heart.
No words could describe the overwhelming flood of feelings as I held that
precious gift from God in my arms. I touched his face, stroked his delicate
skin, but one touch wasn’t enough. I carefully caught his tiny fist between my
thumb and forefinger, and then smiled when his fingers opened and latched onto
my thumb. His tight grip surprised me. My skin, his skin.
He had a special feel, sort of warm and solid, yet fragile. As I kissed his
forehead, he opened his eyes, looked at me, and then closed them. I didn’t want
to give him back. I wanted to hold him forever and ever, but relented and gave
him to his mother.
On Sunday the sixth, I fell in love.
Hope: Baby Hands and Feet
Art Print
Monahan, Laura
Buy at AllPosters.com
Reviews
(applause received) 
Be
the first to review this story - click here.
|
