Soft Sand and Dishwater

Wrinkled but soft

Aged and veiny

Her hands have raised us

Tonight they stir spaghetti,

Hang wet clothes,

Wash the dishes.

And how beautiful they are.

It’s said to be heaven

Paradise on earth

I say it’s overrated

But part of her heart is there,

On the islands of Hawaii.

Someday she’ll bask in Hawaiian sunlight

Let the silky sand slip

Warmly through her fingers;

Sunglasses on, apron off

Dipping into ocean waves

Instead of bubbles and dishwater.

Our eyes meet

And I’m taken back to where I am.

The pot’s boiling, the washer’s churning

The kids are screaming, the dog’s barking

Her eyes are so tired

Somehow contently resigned.

“Someday, someday soon,

You’ll leave the dishes behind,

And fly across the sea.”

And her smile lights up the room.