I Am Holding My Son’s Hand

It’s been happening more and more over the last year. He shakes off my arm a little bit sooner when I put it around his shoulders. He rolls his eyes a little bit more at my silliness. He doesn’t need as much of me as I need of him.

He’s 12.

This weekend the girl and I got a little bit more of him than we’re usually allowed at one time as we set out to hike Lower Macleay to Pittock Mansion. Just two kids, the dog, a mom and time.

Time for the two of them to talk uninterrupted for hours with no noise, no devices, no distractions.

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Time to start low in the fog and then break out above it.

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Time to wander 100 feet to our right and get the view that they had worked so hard for.

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Time for that 12 year old boy to grab my hand a couple of times during our slippery walk…like he wasn’t even thinking about it. Like when he was my little boy. I guess some habits are harder to break than others.

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