Appreciation of a strong woman |
My mother's hands I remember the day I saw my mother's hands I mean really saw them as they were She was about the age that I am today I had remembered them as smooth and gentle as a child But on this particular day as she handed me the dress That she had so lovingly made for my prom The dress was cream satin with pink rosebuds I was suddenly aware of the true cost of this dress And the price she paid for the many garments that had come before My mother had the hands of a seamstress She could sew, mend, or crop together any article of clothing She could piece together quilts in the blink of an eye My mother had the hands of a furrier rough and calloused She spent many years lining fur coats in exquisite satin She shaped the hide of an animal into the outerwear of the wealthy This is how she made a living and how she put food on the table This particular day, I noticed the arthritic knuckles This particular day, I saw each line of wrinkle and wear This particular day I saw the love with which those hands had stitched Every age spot, every callous, and every stiffened joint told a story A story about building a life and a future for 5 kids Those hands have long been laid to rest but the legacy is immortal To my children, I hope that one day you can say My mother's hands built a foundation for us She molded a world of possibilities and dreams My mother's hands belonged to those of a worker And that you always remember, the grace of being a worker |