Throughout my childhood, I was a hand watcher. A hand envier. Other girls had skinny, pretty fingers – so delicate and feminine! Most women had long, elegant hands and fingers. How I longed for those hands, for that gene pool!
But it wasn’t my lot. Of the few physical characteristics I inherited from my mom, at the top of the list were short, fat fingers. Even though she had a great figure, my mom’s hands looked like my grandma’s minus 4 decades. I continually watched both pairs of hands as they washed dishes, cooked meals, rested. And as I watched, I knew my fate. Knew that pudgy hands were a life sentence.
The thing is, Grandma’s hands were highly skilled – able to sew, crochet, and quilt like nobody’s business. Mom played the piano and organ, and could type as fast as most could speak. I discovered I inherited similar talents, but that didn’t stop me from frequently complaining that it wasn’t fair.
Fortunately, as the years passed, I made peace with these hands. They type fast, play piano well, scratch my cats, and they lovingly held and cared for my babies. They take a nice photo once in a while. They look just fine with my developing wrinkles and age spots, frequently reminding me of the two women I loved so much.
For at least a month I’ve thought and wanted to blog about my (mom’s) hands. Even so, when I read The Daily Post’s Weekly Photo Challenge: Selfie, they didn’t come to mind … until I saw that they had photo bombed this picture of ice sliding off my daughter’s car.
As luck would further have it, today I read I’m Falling in Love With My Shoulders This Valentine’s Day, and I realized that I really do love these hands, and I’m grateful for the inheritance. Thank you, Anka, for starting this love fest. If any of my readers want to join in, check out her link – she’ll be glad to have you join the fun!