My Mother's Hands

My skin is aging. I look down on these hands as I type, and I see a connection to great loves that have come before me. As I examine the lines forming on my left hand and touch the smoothness that still remains, I feel my mother’s hand. I see the veins that beautifully line her skin. I am a child again and holding her hand. My great aunt is suddenly with me. Her hand looks much the same, but the lines have become deeper and the veins more prominent. I still feel her sweet fingers wrap around mine. Hands. Touch. So much feeling transpires. So much love. Hold hands. Look at the lines. Look at the lifelines that run through our veins. Remember. Love. 

LT