My parents, Emily and Mark, were both born with dwarfism. They used to laugh and joke that together they made “one full-height parent.” 😊
To the world, they might have looked different. To me, they were simply Mom and Dad.

I’m their only child, Larry — and I grew up average height.
But they never made that feel strange. They never made anything feel strange.
They loved me in the most natural, effortless way. 💛

When I was little, their small hands lifted me every single day — holding me close, feeding me, guiding me, protecting me from anything that might hurt. 🫶
Those hands may have been small, but the love in them was endless.

Time passed quietly, the way it always does.
I grew taller. Stronger.
They stayed the same.

And one day, without a word needing to be spoken, the roles began to shift.

Now, I help them up steps.I carry the groceries.
I bend down so we fit together in photos, arms wrapped tight. 📸
I steady them the way they once steadied me.

Everything they once did for me…
I now do for them.

Not out of obligation.
Not out of duty.

But out of love. 🤍

Because love doesn’t measure height.
It measures care, sacrifice, and the quiet promise that says:
I held you then. You hold me now.