Saturday, November 7, 2009

Hands

“My hands are small, I know, but they’re not yours, they are my own.” ~ Hands by Jewel

kneading

From a very young age I have had a fascination with people’s hands. I think it started with my grandparents. My grandfather was a farmer and his hands were worn and wrinkled and he had short fingers. My grandmother had large, strong hands but they were always so soft and beautiful. When they held me, I took comfort in their hands and understood the love that came through them.

My mom’s hands were a combination of both her parents. Her hands were small like her father’s but looked like her mother’s. And they were always soft and beautiful. Her fingers were perfectly shaped and she always filed her fingernails into a sort of pointy shape. Her fingers taper perfectly just as if you were drawing a picture of what a hand is “supposed” to look like.

My dad’s hands were small also and perfectly tapered with short fingers like his mother’s. And his hands were hairy. But he really does have pretty hands, as people say, for a man. He used to bite his nails when I was younger but he got past that stage and he has really nice hands.patting

My hands are a combination of my mom’s and dad’s, small with short, tapered, well shaped fingers. My husband’s hands were very different from those in my family. He had longer fingers and large, wide palms. His fingers were wide and a little knobby and not so perfectly tapered with rough places around his nails where he wouldn’t take the time to find nail clippers and would just bite off a hang nail. But they were gentle and caring hands. I remember when he died and we had the viewing. I really didn’t know why then but I just stood beside his casket and rubbed his hand. It was oddly comforting.

Hands say something about the person to whom they are attached. It’s not like we can change our hands to fit our mood but I see personality in hands. It’s the first thing I look at when I meet people.rolling I can tell if someone has worked hard in their life or if they don’t care about their personal hygiene. You can tell if they spend way too much money on their manicures or if they are a practical person who would prefer to take care of their filing and polishing themselves. For the record, I spend money getting my nails done but mostly because I’m lazy and would walk around with jagged cuticles and chipped polish. Go ahead, judge me.

These pictures are of my mom’s hands. She is teaching my kids how to make her famous biscuits. I used to love watching her make biscuits. It was like art. As she mixed the dough and my kids helped, I decided that I wanted pictures of my mom teaching my kids but I also wanted pictures of their hands. I have a scrapbook page that I made from all the photos. You can see my son’s hands in one of the photos also. His hands and his sister’s hands are a combination of his dad’s and mine.

I think about all the things my mom’s hands have done for me and it makes me quite emotional. To not see her hands and feel their comfort has been hard since she died. Just like when my husband died, at the funeral home, I stood beside her and touched her hands. It breaks my heart now to think about it. But these pictures give a small amount of comfort and I am so glad I took them.

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3 comments:

Rachat Credit said...

A mother is irreplaceable. Nice post!

Defiscalisation said...

Your mother like her grandchildren very much.

Mutuelle said...

These biscuits have been prepared with great love and i'm sure they are delicious.