Her hand is small, you decide. Small in its size and yet… in that small hand of hers, she holds you captive. You are literally wrapped around her finger. Literally, she holds your entire existence in the palm of her little hand.
It doesn't bother you as much as it did in the beginning. You have accepted the fact that your happiness is contingent on hers. You have embraced the lone fact that she is what your heart wants and what your soul needs. You have accepted that it is her hand that holds you from falling. It is her hand that keeps you grounded. Her hand that pushes you when you need to be pushed and pulls you back when you need to be stopped. It is by her hand, and her hand alone, that she can heal your heart as easily as she can break it.
And it doesn't bother you as much as it did in the beginning. Because with that small hand, she reaches out to you. She wants your hand interlocked with hers. She wants to wear the ring you chose on that finger. She wants to hold your face in those small hands of hers. She wants you.
And really…it doesn't bother you when another small hand comes into the mix. It doesn't scare you when a small hand, smaller than hers, wraps around your finger as you hold him in your arms for the first time. Because although her and his hands are small, yours are big. And with your hands, your strong, clumsy, gentle, scarred, bruised, callous hands, you'll protect the both of them. Your first and last love. Your baby boy. Your sun and your world, you'll hold them both in your hands, and you'll never let go.