Hands Mine and Yours

Did you ever look at your grandmothers hands?  I mean really look at them and take them in.  Did you touch the tops of them and run your finger over all the little scars from years in the kitchen, and the rough spots from gardening and cleaning, and the dark spots from years in the sun?  The weather of life lived and loved.  Do you remember that moment, way back when, she touched the top of your hand and had a good look at it, remembering when her own looked so supple, so white so new.  I remember that moment.  For some reason it sunk into me and stuck with me and comes back from time to time.  I noticed today, my hands, they're almost halfway there.  Halfway through life and showing some of those little scars and rough spots and dark spots.  I love them.  I love them because they make me feel close to my grandmother.  They remind me of her.  They bring forward in me my love of life and how beautiful living is.  The new little hands in my life make me brim with love and joy.  Love for my grandmother and love for my mother and myself and my daughter.  Take a look at your hands.  I bet you'll see more then your own life in them.