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.
nakakaiyak po,sobrang sipag talaga ng nanay natin,kahit ngayon na may pamilya na ako,hinahanap ko pa din sya lalo yung paano mapaputi yung mga damit at yung mga luto nya sa umaga,nakahain na.nkakamiss yung ganun.makikita nalang talaga sa kamay nila ang mga sakripisyo nila sa atin at ngayon tayo naman na isa na din Nanay.
maraming salamat momi berlin sa napakagandang istorya na ito, kahit hindi namin nakasama ng matagal ang aming ina alam namin kung pano nya kami alagaan at asikasuhin , iba talaga ang pag mamahal ng isang ina . naiinggit talaga ako sa lahat ng may nanay pero thankful pa din ako at may tatay pa kaming nagmamahal samin at sa mga apo nya, kaya saknya kami ngayon bumabawi sa lahat ng pag hihirap nya samin. thank you again momi sa napakagandang mensaheng ito godbless to you and to your family☺
Reminds me of my mum… Even if she worked full-time, and even if we grew up with nannies, I still saw how my mum cared for us when it was her off from work. I remember the hands that gave us comfort and love, that sense of peace knowing that, “mum’s got it.”
aww…my mum was the same until she couldn’t wash anymore. like me, her skin immediately blisters to the chemical makeup of today’s laundry soaps. but what a beautiful story.
Same with my grandmother, even she has washing machine, mas gusto pa rin yung laba sa kamay. Hindi satisfied sa laba ng iba. She stopped washing when she got sick.