My Mother’s hands were graceful hands with very simple lines.  They could be swift or they could be gentle.  Her hands seemed to flow when she was preparing dinner and the pleasure in her hazel  eyes when all of us were seated and enjoying the meal around our dining room table laughing and talking,  Something I could have said after the meal was, “gee, Mom, that was a great meal.”  But, being a kid, I didn’t think about it at the time.  But, I can remember all of the meals those hands prepared morning, noon, and night.  Those hands also cleaned the house and washed and ironed the clothes.  Best of all, I remember the stroking of those hands reassuring me and my siblings how to find the right path  in our lives.  She always stressed that anything is possible if you work for it and always listen to your heart.  Life for my Mother’s hands was not easy; but, I never heard her complain.  She only stressed the spirit in all of us would guide us through life. 

kommonsentsjane