keep me safe

“Keep me safe, Mama,” she says, grabbing my hand as we go down the stairs.

“Keep me safe, Mama,” she says, wrapping her arms around my neck in a death grip as she uses a public restroom.

“Keep me safe, Mama,” she says, gripping my arm as she crosses the jointed bridge at the playground.

“I’m keeping you safe, Mama,” she says, throwing her arms around my waist as I lean up and out to help the hubby wash the second story windows.

And I cry.

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