The hand I first grabbed within the first
few moments of my life,
The hand I first held into within my first
the hand I held when crossing the street,
the hand I held when I was afraid,
These comforting hands of my mother,
so warm and assuring to the
small me. I never thought that I ever have to let go.
The hand I let go of when I first paid for my own things,
the hand I let go of when I first traveled alone,
the hand I let go when I filled out paperwork by myself,
Those hands that craddled me close and kept me
safe from the evil of the world finally had to
let me go.
I didn know the workings of this world,
being held so tightly by my mother,
always being protected by my mother.
The cold I had to face alone and the
the thick fog I had navigate through to navigate through alone,
they were my scary first steps without those assuring hands
that would catch me like they did when I was once a child.
Now, I've learned to hold myself when I'm cold,
catch myself when I fall or pick myself if I can't.
To let go of that hand I've held for so long
were my first steps to adulthood.