Hands...

 

For some unknown reason, I noticed my hands today, and … once again thought to myself how very much they are like my Mother’s hands in her later days.  It is a bit startling to see that as I somehow tend to think that I am at least forty years younger than I actually am – until I catch a glimpse of my aging self in a mirror as I walk by or if… as I just mentioned… I notice my hands for a moment. Years ago, my sister caught a glimpse of herself in her foyer mirror and thought she saw our grandmother.  She immediately made an appointment to have her hair colored. I found the whole episode hysterically funny for some reason – perhaps it was the way she was retelling it. Perhaps it was because I remember what this particular Grandma looked like – sort of scary. Oddly enough though I cannot remember this grandma’s hands.  Anyway … we all cope in different ways. I for one, tend not to look in mirrors unless it is totally unavoidable like when brushing teeth or blow-drying hair. Further… I am too lazy to do anything with the color of my hair.  It is what it is and I have other things that I am concerned about.  As far as sitting in front of a lighted mirror at a hairdresser goes -- about all I can stand is an occasional overdue haircut. But that’s just me.  At least at a hairdresser, one can tuck hands under the cape thing.

Anyway -- really seeing my hands and likening them to my Mom’s got me to thinking about hands in general – with a special focus on women’s hands. I mean – just think of all the things that a woman’s hands do in one lifetime. The list would go on seemingly forever. Most of the things I thought about were about hands doing things for other people.  It’s amazing really.  I was watching my daughter braid her daughter’s hair just the other day.  It was somehow wonderful to see – poignant moments. Then too, I recently saw a grandmother wiping away the tears of one of her grands… also touching and memorable -- in a comforting, reassuring kind of way.  I think it is important sometimes to think of these little (maybe not so little) things.  We all know of the bigger things that hands can do… also important, but maybe these apparently “little things” are every bit as significant…or even more so…. I am certain that men’s hands are also worthy of consideration – just not in this blog today – maybe some other time. Odd though -- I always think that, a lot of the time, men's hands age better and look young longer. I guess they work differently.

Those of you who have grandkids have probably noticed their hands as they grow.  My grandson, whose tiny hands fit inside a small pocket of my hand at one time, now has man hands. They are remarkable and strong.  There isn’t much that he cannot do well. How did that happen so quickly?  It’s startling. My granddaughter is teaching herself how to play the ukulele, does her own nails and always very dexterous, makes light work of braiding her own hair, and… of drawing remarkable pictures. She is the artist of her generation as my mom was of hers – only my granddaughter got an earlier start.  She used to draw two different pictures at the same time when just old enough to hold a pencil or a crayon – one in each of her tiny hands.  It was rather amazing to see. I asked her about that just the other day.  She doesn’t remember. Kids forget stuff too.  There is something reassuring about that these days.  Anyway…

My hope is that I will have used my hands to create – whether it was to do all those things that make a clean and warm, safe haven for loved ones, or to write helpful, thought-provoking words and questions over the years to students finding their way, or... in my own writing as I look inward in finding my own way and encouraging others to know that we are all in this together. 

One last thought about hands.  My poor hands have never been so washed and scrubbed as they have been during the past 18 months or so. I even taught my grandkids and my great niece what I call the surgical scrub. We try to make things fun, right?  I have used up a lot of hand cream as well.  Haven’t we all? Aren’t we sick of it? By the way -- I have already started to shake hands again.  I wondered if I ever would. Then again -- I could only last one week of this damncovid without hugging my grandkids.