Monday, March 21, 2011

Mom's Hands

I love my mom's hands. As a kid I'd sit in church, bored by the sermon, and I'd play with her hands. She had blue veins that stuck out on top, and I'd smoosh them around and poke them. I loved that squishy spot between her thumb and first finger, and would squeeze it and revel in it's strangeness.

Her fingers were often stained red, blue, green, purple from food coloring. She was a cake decorator, and our home was always filled with sweet confections that we weren't allowed to touch. Once in a while she would let us lick the beater, and if we were really lucky she would squirt a little frosting on the back of our hands. Sometimes she would make a flower or write our names and sometimes it would just be a quick blob. Didn't matter. We'd lick the frosting off of our hands, and enjoy it's sugary goodness.

Not only did mom have rainbow colored hands, but she had the most beautiful rings. I can remember playing with her rings and dreaming of the day when a prince would put a ring on my finger. I wanted one just like my mom's. And on that hot day in August, surrounded by fish and family and other random people, with my prince down on one knee, my hands became a little more like my mom's.


My mom used her hands to tell stories, and teach us the motions to countless songs. When I was in high school she learned to do puppets, and at our wedding reception her hand made a puppet talk to me and my new groom.

My mom has the best hands. Hands full of love and experience. Hands that held me and disciplined me and entertained me and made me laugh.  I love my mom and I love her hands.

4 comments:

  1. I think I need to call my mom now.

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  2. Aw! I always loved my moms hands too!

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  3. Love the picture of your hands together. How neat that you have nearly the same rings!

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  4. You made me cry. I love hands, too. I watch hands -- maybe because I play the piano. But I loved my Daddy's hands long before I knew I watched them. I miss his hands. I miss Alan's hands. You made me cry.

    I love you,
    Mom the other

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