Your Hands

I remember when I was younger, and I would look at you with such a curious view of the world. 

 I would wonder why your hands were so wrinkly. 

 I would wonder why your veins were protruding and why you had so many freckles.  

I remember how soft your hands were and that always surprised me because you were a hard worker. 

You always had the most beautiful long nails that you used to scratch my back so gently I would fall asleep. 

But when I think about your hands now, 

 I remember things a little differently.  

What I remember now is how your hands felt around me as you wrapped me in a hug. 

I remember when you used to hold my hands to warm them up on a cold day. 

I remember how soft they were as they wiped tears from my cheeks.  

I remember all the times those hands helped me out of sticky situations. 

And I remember that they were always ready to fight for me. 

It’s the things I wish I could forget that hurt me the most... 

I wish I could forget holding your hand in the hospital hoping for a spark that was not there, 

I wish I could forget how long I sat by your bed waiting for you to squeeze me like you once did. 

I wish I could forget how hard your calloused hands felt without life inside you. 

I wish I could forget my hot tears running down my wet face and landing on your beautiful skin. 

I wish I could forget how stiff your once comforting hands became wrapped in mine. 

But there are some hopes that I have for you.... 

I hope that you could feel my warm hands resting in yours. 

I hope that you could feel the love in my kisses on the back of your palm. 

I hope that you felt comforted when I stroked my soft hands against your sweet face. 

I hope that one day when I am a grandma, that my children will remember my hands that held them. 

And I'm thankful that you gave that to me.