My day revolved around them. The weather is still very dry and cold and I seem to require a lot of lotion these days. Such a strange thing to overwhelm me, but then again, that is usually how it happens when I am blindsided.
I don’t usually pay that much attention to my left or right hands. They are normally never still, but today as I paused for lotion…..I realized how much they are starting show my age. It happens…I’m not going to stop it. I am thankful that they still serve me well.
I suddenly become aware of the fact I can’t remember my mother’s hands. I am overwhelmed by a sinking feeling. How could I forget what they looked like? After all, they were a part of my everyday life as a child.. and even as an adult.
I push the thought aside-That’s what you do when you have these moments. I function. I move on.
In the midst of playing the keyboard tonite, I lose my way. I only see my hands. No longer looking at my music, but staring at my hands. I am lost in my thoughts…of hands.
Once I had settled into my evening, I can’t rest until I see them again. The hands of my Mother. Why? Why do they consume me so much in the middle of my week.
I search for at least one photo. I desperately search until I have found one. I need to see them up close.
Immediately, I remember her words… A closed hand can never receive blessings. Closed hands live in a state of fear and greed. An open hand is compassionate, a help to others as needed, a comfort to rest on a shoulder. An open hand is much like your heart, love has to have an open space to dwell in, it cannot reach its potential in a clenched fist.
Hands….I hope one day when my daughter looks at mine.. she will see something similar..a gentle reminder of how I used them.