Her Hands

Her hands held and raised her three children. They worked a farm. They prepared everyday and holiday meals with love and skill. Her hands crocheted and sewed and planted. They harvested and canned and made her best bread and butter pickles. Her hands cared for piglets, calves, lambs and chickens. They tended her favorite flowers and picked apples for her wonderful apple butter. Her hands decorated the farmhouse for Christmas and hid Easter eggs all around the farm. Her hands lovingly held four precious grandchildren and tried to teach them to play the piano. They held her husband's hands for over 50 years. Her hands were wrinkled and crooked from arthritis. And my grandmother's hands were beautiful.
Her hands played the saxophone and the piano. They helped care for two brothers. They fed lambs, calves, piglets and gathered eggs from chickens. Her hands sewed and knitted and helped around the farm. They cared for others when she became a nurse. They lovingly held and raised a daughter. Her hands held the books she read to her daughter every night. They planted and nurtured flowers, herbs and a garden. They learned to cook and make the best cheesecake in the world. Her hands made homemade pizza every Saturday and banana bread every Christmas without fail. They held and nurtured a granddaughter. As she grew older, they began to resemble her mother's hands.  And my mother's hands were beautiful.
Her hands played with dolls and her mother's homemade playdoh. They weren't quite big enough to hold all the cards when they played Go Fish. Her hands tried to learn the piano but they never got the hang of it. They cared for countless gerbils and goldfish. They scratched at the chicken pox, even though they weren't supposed to. They learned to cook, well enough to earn awards. They learned to french braid her hair as though they had eyes of their own. Her hands held her new husband's as they were wed. Her hands felt her baby kick. They held her beautiful baby girl, all tiny and pink. They dried tiny tears and soothed her daughter. Her hands planted flowers and fed hummingbirds. They knitted, sewed and turned wrenches on motorcycles. Her hands have held tightly onto her husband's as they faced illness, hard times and special moments. Her hands are beginning to look like her mother's and grandmother's...and they are beautiful.