My Hands

My Hands they are the Tools of my Trade. (from Laura Smith - I'm a Beauty on Vanity Pressed - a Collection CD.)


My Hands are growing older along with the rest of me.
There are times I look at my hands and don't know who they belong to.
I am looking at my Mother's hands. When did I get my Mother's hands?
When did time betray them? When did the scars, bumps and age spots appear? When did arthritis start to turn my fingers and cause me to feel pain?











I see the hands of an older person.
How did this happen?
Somehow they grew old while I was busy having a life.





















Then I see this photo taken by my daughter's hands. It is of my Sister's and Mother's hands.
My Mother's hands at 80 years of age.
I realize now that when I look at my hands I see the hands of my Mother's 50 year old hands. Her hands have had 30 more years of life than mine. Think of the things those hands could tell mine.


They tell of a life fully lived. Of things created and work long done. Of wisdom and experience. Of risks taken and opportunities explored.

Do I still want the pristine hands of youth? Hands that are unwise to the ways of the world?

No not really...

I want to see the life I have lived in my hands. To remember the creations I've made, the babies I've rocked. I want to feel the aches and pains (I lie!!) that have resulted from not wearing rubber gloves while I do dishes and knitting for 8 hours straight or forgetting to wear mittens on the coldest day of the year.

I want the memories.

I want those memories to temper all future actions taken by my hands.

I want my hands to create new memories, feel new textures, give strength to others for as many years as possible.

My hands are the tools of my trade and my life. I will embrace their aging appearance.