On Creative Hands

Today I celebrate my creative hands.

My hands are my mother’s hands. Whether in photos or how they feel, they always remind me of my mother. I am so like her in many ways. My daughter’s hands, comparatively, are nothing like mine. Whereas mine are fleshy and sturdy, my daughter’s are light and wispy, with long, slender fingers.

These hands are time travelers. When I hold my mother’s hands, I am drawn to the past and memories of my childhood. When I hold my daughter’s hands, I can see far into the future and all that she will continue to accomplish.