Hands

My hands are a lot like my mother's and a lot not. The contours similar, but these hands do not reflect the harsh work that she did, strong detergents and cleaning agents that were part of her work. Yet, they are a part of her, a part of my lineage.

I come from a long line of women, who like me, have lasted enough to see how time has massaged us. Those so-called wrinkles, feared by so many women were embraced by my All Mothers. An indication of our endurance through pain, sorrow, and despair with laughter, food, hugs from children and other women and even occasionally a man or two.

I have softer hands because my All Mothers gave me a life with less hazardous choices. I have these wrinkles because I have lived through time with focus and serendipity. I bow to the love of my All Mothers, I bow to myself.