These hands

Another one of those times , when you just suddenly notice that things have changed ! Each and every day these little bits of yourself carry on regardless. Then one day you look down and its caught up with you !
Those little lines and dark freckles , the nails that never really ever did look their best unless I was lucky enough to be on holiday ! Today , I noticed my hands look old !

I really should take more time to moisturize ! But then again , these hands probably do the most work  out of any other part of me .  Right from day one they have been a way of communicating and expression. Long before I could even talk . Then as I grew they became tools as I explored and created each adventure and mini masterpiece . Learning to feed myself was one of the most fun memories as I would enjoy new found independence . Then as we have all done making a mess was a lot easier than clearing one up !

These hands have held on tight as I played with my Mother and wrapped myself around her . They have stretched out as my Father lifted me on his shoulders and danced around the room . They have weaved and rung and clapped and clicked and hung with all sorts of emotions !

They have written essays, passed and failed exams , tried again and then tried some more .

My life begins with me clinging on and not letting go with these hands . As the years have passed they have greeted and waved goodbye countless times. They have prayed and exclaimed in hope and despair .  They have planted and weeded , watered and fed.  They have designed and designated. They have been muddy and manicured . My hands ! Here they are after all of this , continuing and carrying on!

Now after holding and having my own babies and grand babies these hands are not weary but tough. They are weathered not worn. They continue to get me where I need to be. To hold and hug and help!

So my hands have served me well even if now they look a little older . I am not ashamed that they have shown me every step of the way how much they have helped me through. As I gaze adoringly at my wedding band and diamond I recall every day of every year that I have been married to my wonderful husband and how much we have been through together .How much we have survived and how much we still hope for. My hand shows the world that I am very happy and proud to be his wife.

So , yes my hands have aged but they are my reminder of everything and everywhere my life has touched. They deserve a little more time now . But I am not embarrassed by their less than perfect appearance. Each little dent, wrinkle and crooked joint is my journey .