One Sunday, I visited my mother. I found her sleeping, evident that a few tears flew out of her eyes and rolled down her cheek. She moaned a little, and so I held her hands.
Hers are crooked showing her real age. Her knuckles are puffy, and there are wrinkles and webs between her fingers. My mother has real ugly old hands. I massaged them, and slowly, a series of memories played in my mind.
my mother’s hands
Those same hands are the ones that held me gently from the day I had my first few breaths. The very hands that guided me as I had my first steps. And those busy hands are what brought food to our table and managed to pay for my studies.
I stepped out of my mom’s room and looked for my firstborn, who stays with her.
“Is mommy feeling sick or something?” I asked. My son told me that mommy woke up at 3 am to hand wash clothes. She finished by 7 am and went straight back to bed.
Ow, my mother. She has an automatic washing machine and yet so seldom use it. She still prefers to hand wash her clothes. To her, the washing machine will not be as gentle as a hand wash.
She invests in good quality clothes; thus, she takes good care of them. She never minds paying a premium to a particular brand as she very well believes the brand has had to work to put themselves in that position. Such brands maintain their reputation and are motivated to create products of better quality.
I went to the roof deck to check on her laundry. Upon opening the door, I immediately recognized the familiar sunshine fresh scent of the clothes hanging on the line. My mom still never change brands. She has always been a loyal Ariel Sunrise Fresh user for years.
I went back to my mother’s room and reached for her hands. Hers are crooked, well-used, and showing off her age. Yet I could feel how strong her hands are with a dozen or more veins still pumping life into them.
Those are the very hands that clapped in every small or big achievement I had. The same hands that cheer for my children’s successes. The hands that help shape me into all she knew I could be and more.
I went down to check if there’s food on the table. As always, there is a ready food for everyone. I stayed in the dining table for awhile. I will wait for my mother to wake up and invite her for some hand massage and a quiet mom-daughter early dinner. She deserves more than that, but for now, I know it’s what her heart desires.
Devoted. Compassionate, Instinctive. Berlin loves to write personal narratives, thrilling discoveries, and mommy tips that make daily living the happiest. She shares the small house with her husband and their five boys.