Hands

A post by my friend Mel was about her hands. It brought back to mind a time when I looked at my own Mother's hands. Maybe I was a young teenager, I'm not really sure, but I remember sitting on our couch together with my Mom. Behind us was the big bay window looking out over our front garden. It rains a lot in Washington, and we spent a lot weekend afternoons there, sometimes just watching the rain fall out of the sky.

Her hands had not yet become swollen with arthritis and age. She had long fingers and long fingernails. Her hands were shaped like mine are now, but I could see her blue veins and long tendons standing out. My hands, then, were long, but smooth. No blue veins, no outstanding tendons. Just smooth, yet to be used to work, hands. I marvelled then of the difference, thinking that my hands would never be like hers. My, how naive I was.

I have my Mother's hands. I should have known this would come.

Now, if only I can figure a way to avoid that arthritis!