My Mother’s Hands

picjumbo.com_HNCK8248
photo by picjumbo.com

 

My mother’s hands are rough and strong.  They have been that way as long as I can remember, no matter how much lotion, balm, or cream she uses.  I always assumed that’s just how a mother’s hands are supposed to be.  Her hands are like that because she’s never been a stranger to hard work, from the time she grew up on the farm to all the physical jobs she has always had, even now.
As a child those hands were cool when my forehead was feverish.  They picked me up when I fell.  They always pushed me to do my best when I needed it.  They held my smaller hands and made me feel loved and safe.
As a pregnant adult, I remember gazing at my own hands, turning them over and wondering to myself, When are they going to look like Mom’s hands? not really realizing that they weren’t going to magically change into hers.
The day I woke up with contractions I labored at home until the evening.  My husband and I went to the hospital and waited through the night as each new contraction came.  When I lay in my hospital bed writhing without medication, feeling nervous, anxious, and scared, all I wanted was to feel my mother’s hands.
I am a mother now.  My hands do not look like hers; they do not feel like hers.  They look the same to me as they always have.  I just hope they hold the same magic touch that my mother’s have.

Advertisements

One thought on “My Mother’s Hands

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s