My mother's hands

Apr 17, 2015

Life comes full circle.
Of all the things I remember about my Mom, her hands stand out most in my mind. She had the most beautiful hands. I remember as a little girl, holding her soft, cool hands with the beautiful long nails and wishing that, when I grew up, I could have hands like hers. 

Well, sadly, I ended up with short stubbly little hands. I try to keep my nails long and trim and looking at least a little like my Mom's, but my job gets in the way. 
I think I end up breaking all of my nails at any given point during the week. I have never been proud of my hands because, in my mind, they have never measured up to Mom's.

So, tonight, I was having a rough night. The pain was bad again. I had accidentally banged my leg on the table and stubbed my toe on the door frame. It overwhelmed me and the tears started to flow a bit because I had reached my breaking point again.

Spunky looked at me with concern and asked "Grandma, what's wrong?" 

She crawled up on the couch beside me and took my hand in hers. 
We sat like that for a while, and I think I even managed to drift off to sleep. 
I woke up, and she was still holding my hand in hers, stroking my palms and fingers and the backs of my hands and holding them up against her little hands. 
I smiled and told her I loved her. 
She said, "Grandma, I just love your hands. I wish I could have hands just like yours."

WOW! Blew my mind. What a dear little girl. 

All this time I have been sorry that I wasn't blessed with the beautiful hands of my Mom, and here is this little girl who loves me as I am and wishes she could be just like me.