You used to hold my hand when I was ill,
cradled me in your arms until I was calm.
You watched me take my first steps with a thrill
and laughed as your hand swallowed my little palm.
But soon enough, I began to grow up.
You knew your baby was drifting away.
I traded my toys for boys and makeup,
while you wished for me to stay young one more day.
But then came the day I had to step in
and care for you the way you did for me.
I held your hand and soothed your fragile skin
and told you there’s nowhere I’d rather be.
I looked at you with such admiration;
a caregiver in all situations.

Editor: Erynn Crittenden