"Don't let go"

My daughter was sitting on my lap yesterday evening, a few hours before bed. She had been sick, and was tired, wrestless, and feeling lousy. My hands wrapped around her little belly as we sat together. I shifted in my chair, removing my hands to make sure we were both comfortable. She immediately took hold of both my hands and quickly wrapped them back around her belly. Curious, I removed them again. She looked at them, grabbed them again, and wrapped them around her once more, even more tightly this time. Touched by her need for my security, yet still letting my curiousity get the best of me, I removed them again. This time, she looked up at me. She didn't smile, she didn't cry. Yet deep within her eyes was the preconception of a question that she had not yet learned to ask. "Why would you let go of me?" She grasped my hands once more, and wrapped them around herself.

Don't let go of me, papa.

No, I won't let go of you, my dear.