Mom’s Hands

Held the babies

Changed the diapers

Washed the dishes

Laundered the clothing

Raised four children

Held the steering wheel, shaking, when a dirt truck nearly pushed our big, beautiful Beauville filled with Mom and kids off the road

Knitted a toque for me during the night when she heard me mention in another room that I’d like one

Write in flowing cursive, pen skating, weaving letters over pages and cards

Hold romance novels open during the quiet hours

Cover her mouth when she laughs at her K-dramas at 3am

Cook food day in and day out for Dad while he works

Make coffee, every few hours, every day, for years

Mom’s hands have seen the wear and tear of her life

and through it all,

Mom’s hands are tender, soft.

I am a child again when I hold them in mine

The skin has been worked, and worked, and worked

And they could be rough, God, they really could be, the world could have made them so

Hot water from dishwashing makes her nails brittle

Preparing food of all natures seeps flavors and colors into her skin

Knitting for hours makes them cold, dry

They are weathered with life, wiping our tears before hers

They pat my back when I hug her goodbye

They are gentle against my face when I cry

Mom’s hands

are

Smooth