The Hands of Time

I've always loved my mom's hands. They were always so pretty to me. I remember when the teenager was young, he used to take nana's hands in his and just rub them and rub them, smoothing out the wrinkles. He'd say "Nana, you're old." She would giggle and reply "Well, yes I am" just as proud as punch. She'd then grab him up with a big bear hug. I remember her showing me how thin the skin on her hands had become and she too would smooth the wrinkles out as we talked. I miss all of the mundane conversations we used to have.

Today, I brought mom something a little different. She loves her chicken nuggets for lunch, just about every day. But today, I brought the little chicken sandwiches, you know the square little ones. By the time I made it down to sit for lunch, she had already put her pj's on. She was confused as to what time it was until I told her it was only noon. She seemed happy that it wasn't time for bed.

I put the camera on the table and snapped a few. I've been meaning to take pictures of her hands for a while now, for some reason. Here she's grabbing her vitamins and medicine. Sometimes she gets confused as to what to do first, take a sip or put the pill in her mouth. I normally try and let her figure it out herself unless she starts chewing one of the pills.

I wonder when my hands will begin showing the signs of time. I suppose I have plumpness on my side. Mom never did.