The Inspiration to Love: My Mother's Hands

The Inspiration to Love: My Mother’s Hands

Comfort. Warmth. Support. Love

 These are all words that describe my mother’s hands.

Tough, cut, bruised, and resilient are also words that describe my mother’s hands.

My hands, small and stubby, seemingly fit into hers, bold and bright.

 Together, they are a match made in heaven.

God worked his wonders in order to create this perfect fit for our hands.

He made sure that every heart line, fate line, and lifeline were made to fit like a key; a key that holds the secret.

 The secret to charm, passion, enthrallment, and good.

People often say that when something is worn, it’s no good.

People often say that when keys have a ding, or when keys have a chip, it will no longer coincide in the core.

This was not the case with me.

No matter what life threw at my mother’s hands, they still fit perfectly together with mine. When my hand meets hers, the magic begins.

First comes the clasping of the fingers, then we slide down until our palms meet.

From here, we can feel one another’s heartbeat.

This stimulates endorphins to fire, and happiness can take charge.

This process is especially important when I have a bad day.

I need this feeling in order to have a sense of belonging, a sense of home.

Her palms, much like a wood-burning fire, provide warmth, and her fingers, much like a chaise, sit me down and tell me to relax.

At this point, our hands fall asleep.

The relaxation drifts into morning, and the bad day is no more.