Little hands

I found this poem on instagram. I think the more people that read it the better. Enjoy! “ I'm 80 years old, and somehow.. I woke up in my 32 year old body. Just for one day. I wake up to little hands tugging at the blankets. "Mommy, wake up!" they shout. I blink, and I sit up slowly. My babies. They're small again. I gasp. I cry. They climb into bed giggling, wiggling. I used to rush through mornings.. but not today. I pull them close. I hug them tight. I kiss their messy hair. I hold their little hands. This time, I soak in every second. I catch my reflection in the bathroom mirror. No deep lines. No grey hair. My younger face... I used to think I looked old at 41. What a silly thought. I stare for a moment and think, "You are so beautiful." I find my husband in the kitchen, making coffee. He looks strong, Young. I wrap my arms around him so tightly. He looks surprised. Maybe we didn't hug enough back then, I think. We talk about the day nothing big. But today, it all feels big. I memorize the sound of his voice. We pile into the car, kids arguing over seatbelts. Someone drops a snack. Crumbs everywhere. I used to get so frustrated. I soak in the noise, the chaos I know my car will be quiet and spotless for many years to come. But I'll miss the mess. Dinner is loud and unorganized. No one wants to sit still. There's shouting, giggling, a little arguing and so much life. I don't clean up right away. I just sit and watch. Trying to burn it all into my memory. Before bed, I pick up the phone. I call my mom. And I hear her voice. Mom..MOM I haven't heard this voice in so many years.. I close my eyes and let her words wash over me. I tell her I love her again and again. I never want to hang up. This time, I don't leave anything unsaid. At bedtime, I don't skip pages in the story. Not tonight. I read every single word. Then I ask, "Can we read one more book?" They say yes. I don't want this day to end. I got one more day. And this time, I knew. This was joy. This was love. Those little hands. The loud, messy dinners. Our strong, young bodies with no aches or pains. Our parents who are still alive.. It all mattered so much more than we ever realized. “