I’ve had this old iron bistro table and chairs that belonged to my mama for 15 years. For 15 years it’s sat on my bedroom porch just waiting for a new coat of paint and some new, fun cushions. And every year it doesn’t get done. I even had great plans to make this mosaic table top for it. But, again it didn’t happen. 15 years! That’s a long time! Finally, I decided this is the year. I moved them to the driveway so I could power wash all the rust and dirt away. As I’m getting them ready, I have to take off these old cushions that my mama had made for them. They’re faded and brittle and have hardly any foam left in them. I reach over and start to untie the knots and I start to cry. I realize I’m untying knots my mama tied with her own hands I don’t know how many years ago.
My mama’s hands-how I miss them. I start to remember all the things those beautiful hands did for me, my brother and sister and my whole family. They were beautiful hands.
They could play a song on the piano and brighten any rainy day.
They could turn fried bologna and cream gravy into a gourmet meal.
The could work until they were covered with blisters and cuts and never stop.
They could teach, with firmness, the difference between right and wrong.
They could comfort and heal the worst of boo boos.
They could lift me up with pride and love over a job well done.
They could soothe and wipe away the tears of pain and loss.
Those beautiful hands could show so much love. How I miss my mama’s hands. Sometimes so much it’s suffocating. I guess you’re never too old to miss your mama.
But even now, through the tears I can feel my mama’s hands-
on my cheek, lifting my chin and gently on my shoulders urging me forward.
I love you, Mama
Well said Holly Kiehn, well said.