I’ve always said that if I grow up to be half the woman my mom was, I will feel as though I’ve made it.
Today I realized that
I have
my Mother’s
hands…
My Dad had large hands with long fingers.
Mom’s just the opposite, small and dainty
hands that were weathered
and wrinkled
in later years –
certainly proof of a well-lived life…
Her hands:
loving,
but stern;
strong,
yet comforting;
secure,
and vulnerable;
firm,
while flexible.
A study in the dichotomy of life.
I miss every part of my mom,
her absence from earth
took part of me with her.
But more than anything
I miss holding her hands
until I look down
at my own
and smile…
XO Lisa ❤️
Grateful, Thankful, and Mending! 
a beautiful gift in your lines of poetry with your mother giving hands LIsa! 💖
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💕 thank you my friend!
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💖💖
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Keep smiling Lisa! My recent time providing home care for my mother was a special time.
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No regrets… ever! 💕
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Oh Lisa, I love this so much💕
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Thank you so much 💕
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This post touched me and made me smile, Lisa. I also have my mother’s hands and fingers. It’s like remembering Mom when I look at them. Funny how that is. I guess it’s what we saw when we were small and Mom was taking care of us with those hands. Feeding, clothing, bathing…we had a close up view of them, I suppose. 🙂💜😇
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Exactly! I almost went that direction when writing. But I would’ve cried even more than I already did…
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