This is a photo of my nephew's hand and that little hand holding his finger is the hand of his daughter. I remember when his hands were that small, that young, that new. I've seen his hands learn to feed himself, to write his name, to dribble a basketball. I've seen them clapping in joy, and folded in prayer. I've watched him use those hands to open doors, hold on tight, deliver me a rose, and build a boat with his Grandfather.
Now, he's a father and the other day, I watched his hands bathe his baby girl.
When I look at this photo, it's hard to believe that the little hand clinging to his finger is that of his daughter. When I look at this photo, I see time. And love. So very much love.