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.


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


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





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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