Her hands looked like her mother’s did at her age; strong and a bit weathered. Veins visible and pushing the skin upwards at the slightest flex. She remembered the grip of her mother’s hand as she would walk with her down the sidewalks and streets of her youth running errands; down Detroit to the post office, up Chillicothe to the dry cleaners, around the corner to the newsstand on Main. Her mother's hand always holding hers - strong and soft, despite years of working on an assembly line. She closed her eyes and could see every detail; her mother’s knuckles, the shape of her nail beds, and the gold wedding band she wore on her left hand.
She sat and stared at her hands...
Did her daughters notice her hands? Would they remember the details of her knuckles, the pattern of her veins, the length of her nails? When she held onto their little hands, or grabbed them to give them a hug, would they remember the feel? What streets would they remember walking with her? Blue Heron Way...8th St....Cavalry Ct...Dickman Rd.? Would they remember the white gold wedding band she wore on her left hand?
She sat and stared at her hands...
They rested on the page she had been reading. She ran her fingers over the last words she read:
She is clothed with strength and dignity;
she can laugh at the days to come.
She speaks with wisdom,
and faithful instruction is on her tongue.
She watches over the affairs of her household
and does not eat the bread of idleness.
Her children arise and call her blessed;
her husband also, and he praises her:
“Many women do noble things,
but you surpass them all.”
Charm is deceptive, and beauty is fleeting;
but a woman who fears the Lord is to be praised.
~ Proverbs 31: 25-30 ~
She sat and stared at her hands and in them found strength and beauty and a cradle of abounding love.
© Erica Day McCarthy, San Antonio, TX - 22 September 2018
No comments:
Post a Comment