This older hand holding the younger--it's an 86 year difference.
This older hand, which once held mine, is holding my baby's. This hand belongs to the one who brought me such security and love as I grew up wondering who I was and where I belonged.
She is now older. She reached her 90th birthday last fall and I wonder just how many more she will have. These older hands--what have they seen in this life? The wrinkles. The veins. Both testify to a life lived well.
It is a reminder to me to love well with these hands of mine. Will my children see love in my hands when one day they see my hands grown older? Will I look at my older hands and instead of seeing stubby fingers and wide palms, will I see the hands that baked cookies, taught children how to write, and loved them well?
....five minute fridays with The Gypsey Mama...the challenge to write for five minutes on one topic, no editing, no back tracking, just write.