I sat listening to jazz while Jonah's little hands were clasped around mine, his face all peaceful and sleepy. My hand on his tummy, his on top of mine holding on for what seemed to be dear life. I looked around at others and was hit with the realization of how truly short this time is. All these people listening, playing, watching were at one point and time just as little, just as helpless and needy as Jonah. They all had moms that held them and they all held on to their mothers hands without a care in the world. Now there is a hand strumming a guitar, another fingering a sax, another hitting a drum. Too old now to need a mothers hand for reassurance. It made me so very thankful for this very special moment in time; Music, a sleeping baby, and hands gripping mine ever so tightly.
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