The care home smells of old skin. In the background, classical piano music. Soft, sweet. Today she is in the recliner in her room, propped up by so many pillows she’s almost hidden from view. Eyes closed.
These hands, I say, twining her pale, liver-spotted fingers through mine. These hands are strong and powerful. They bake pies and sew dresses and sketch flowers and make music and write worlds of words. And when I am sad or tired or scared, they hold me.
These hands are the best hands, I tell her and she whispers back: Best in town.
Beautiful, Julie! I can see my mom's hands, too. I see them sewing something for me (no doubt at my last-minute request), drawing or trying out her watercolor painting skills with great humility, and certainly handwashing dishes, ironing clothes, and wiping down the kitchen table. I miss her.
I got a good one. On our way to my great-uncle's funeral my sister kept pulling on her face, worried she was getting old. When we walked thru the door my great-aunt said why Clara! (our mother's name). How nice you could come! : )
In similar vein, my husband and I went to visit a care home the other day to enquire about respite care for his mother. He'd said 'I' and 'me' when booking the appointment, referred to his mother by her name, and DIDN'T mention that it would be him and his wife coming to have a look at the care home. Predictably, on our arrival, as I'm a female with grey hair who is currently (temporarily) using a walking stick - he greeted me with my mother-in-law's name!
(It took me around ten minutes to stop laughing and pull myself together after that!)
Oh! What a gorgeous post about your mom's hands for Mother's Day, Julie! Okay, it's July now, but that's the beauty of dipping in and out - I get a whole load of treasure in one go (although, truth be told, I'd love to read every day of the week!).
I'm thinking of my mum's hands now - holding my own hands tight, collecting the eggs, helping our ewes at lambing time (she'd take her wedding ring off for that job, lest, well, I'm not going to go into where it might have got lost!), the sound of her ring on her wooden rolling pin whenever she rolled out her wholemeal pastry, her devotion to her craft of spinning and weaving, of writing her many lists..... oh gosh, I need to save these thoughts for a post of my own sometime!!! I'm going to have a chat with her about her beautiful hands the very next time I see her.
Gosh. Y'know, this is what I always get from you, dear Julie - inspiration, a warm hug of words, and the will to write! And to run, too, which I WILL do again one of these days, just you wait and see. Hugs hugs hugs, friend. And thank you. xxx
Oh Rebecca! These are great words about your mum. I do hope you write more and share with us. :) I'm so happy this post created so many beautiful memories. Keep going my friend, and I do hope we can connect real soon in person. I'm so sorry I haven't emailed to update you...We needed to get our schedule together. LOL
LOL! At the moment at this end we haven’t managed to firm up our ‘up north’ plans for the work project, so it’s still a bit up in the air. But if we CAN make it work, we WILL make it work! xxx
What a simple and beautiful way to express and establish that how precious our mothers are and shall be kept happy as they had and have never left any stone unturned to keep us joyful and peaceful. Incredible tribute to all mothers, Julie. 😊😊
Hi Vineet, Thank you for your message. Mothers are so precious and special. I'm grateful to sit down and write...remember those important memories. Thank you.
A loving tribute to your mom, Julie B. I saw more than a couple similarities between our moms, and am glad you remembered and articulated those of your mom so well.
Thanks, Julie B. Hughes. My mom was book smart, but because her own mother was a teacher and helped her a lot to know all sorts of school skills, mom started school in 3rd grade. With classmates two years older, my mom’s social skills lagged behind. Her first teaching position was as the sole teacher of a one-room country school. Her pay? $74.86. I heard that more than a couple times.
When WW II broke out, she became the time keeper for a nearby glass container factory. When dad returned from Europe at war’s end, she became a full time house keeper. Ours. Money was not plentiful, yet the decision was made to garden extensively, process & preserve the yields, canning and freezing as well as pickling, jellies & jams, ketchup (yes, for real) to stretch the household income. As deer hunters one freezer in the basement was stocked with cuts of deer meat. Deer hearts were baked, usually a day or two after the hunt. Livers, too. My older brother and I were involved in almost all aspects of our garden. Except the things like canning, blanching, the skilled parts.
I’m sorry I got so long winded (and didn’t mention she was the pianist/organist for church and sang solos and duets). Well before her demise her finger joints were quite arthritic. No nail polish ever. An excellent seamstress, she sewed our shirts and britches until we started 7th grade. She & dad dressed plainly.
We ate well and I got a strong body to show for it! 💪🏻 And so much more.
The care home smells of old skin. In the background, classical piano music. Soft, sweet. Today she is in the recliner in her room, propped up by so many pillows she’s almost hidden from view. Eyes closed.
These hands, I say, twining her pale, liver-spotted fingers through mine. These hands are strong and powerful. They bake pies and sew dresses and sketch flowers and make music and write worlds of words. And when I am sad or tired or scared, they hold me.
These hands are the best hands, I tell her and she whispers back: Best in town.
Amie, I'm in tears.
This is so beautiful. Thank you. Sending you long distance hugs. xx
Amie, these words about your mother's hands are absolutely gorgeous. Needed a hanky after reading! Glorious. xxx
Beautiful, Julie! I can see my mom's hands, too. I see them sewing something for me (no doubt at my last-minute request), drawing or trying out her watercolor painting skills with great humility, and certainly handwashing dishes, ironing clothes, and wiping down the kitchen table. I miss her.
Good morning, Jackie. Thank you so much for sharing your Mother with us. Sending hugs to you.
I got a good one. On our way to my great-uncle's funeral my sister kept pulling on her face, worried she was getting old. When we walked thru the door my great-aunt said why Clara! (our mother's name). How nice you could come! : )
This is a good one. Your Mother's name is beautiful. Thank you for sharing, Richard. :)
Oh, this is brilliant, Richard!
In similar vein, my husband and I went to visit a care home the other day to enquire about respite care for his mother. He'd said 'I' and 'me' when booking the appointment, referred to his mother by her name, and DIDN'T mention that it would be him and his wife coming to have a look at the care home. Predictably, on our arrival, as I'm a female with grey hair who is currently (temporarily) using a walking stick - he greeted me with my mother-in-law's name!
(It took me around ten minutes to stop laughing and pull myself together after that!)
I'm glad it had you laughing, Rebecca. I'm not sure I would have had the same response. Thinking of you and praying you're on the mend. xx
Oh! What a gorgeous post about your mom's hands for Mother's Day, Julie! Okay, it's July now, but that's the beauty of dipping in and out - I get a whole load of treasure in one go (although, truth be told, I'd love to read every day of the week!).
I'm thinking of my mum's hands now - holding my own hands tight, collecting the eggs, helping our ewes at lambing time (she'd take her wedding ring off for that job, lest, well, I'm not going to go into where it might have got lost!), the sound of her ring on her wooden rolling pin whenever she rolled out her wholemeal pastry, her devotion to her craft of spinning and weaving, of writing her many lists..... oh gosh, I need to save these thoughts for a post of my own sometime!!! I'm going to have a chat with her about her beautiful hands the very next time I see her.
Gosh. Y'know, this is what I always get from you, dear Julie - inspiration, a warm hug of words, and the will to write! And to run, too, which I WILL do again one of these days, just you wait and see. Hugs hugs hugs, friend. And thank you. xxx
Oh Rebecca! These are great words about your mum. I do hope you write more and share with us. :) I'm so happy this post created so many beautiful memories. Keep going my friend, and I do hope we can connect real soon in person. I'm so sorry I haven't emailed to update you...We needed to get our schedule together. LOL
LOL! At the moment at this end we haven’t managed to firm up our ‘up north’ plans for the work project, so it’s still a bit up in the air. But if we CAN make it work, we WILL make it work! xxx
you bet! :)
What a simple and beautiful way to express and establish that how precious our mothers are and shall be kept happy as they had and have never left any stone unturned to keep us joyful and peaceful. Incredible tribute to all mothers, Julie. 😊😊
Hi Vineet, Thank you for your message. Mothers are so precious and special. I'm grateful to sit down and write...remember those important memories. Thank you.
Cent percent true, Julie. Really proud of you.
I truly appreciate your message. Thank you.
Thanks to you, Julie.
A loving tribute to your mom, Julie B. I saw more than a couple similarities between our moms, and am glad you remembered and articulated those of your mom so well.
Thank you, Gary. It's amazing what a prompt will bring up in my memory. Writing is such a gift. It sounds like your Mom was special too.
Thanks, Julie B. Hughes. My mom was book smart, but because her own mother was a teacher and helped her a lot to know all sorts of school skills, mom started school in 3rd grade. With classmates two years older, my mom’s social skills lagged behind. Her first teaching position was as the sole teacher of a one-room country school. Her pay? $74.86. I heard that more than a couple times.
When WW II broke out, she became the time keeper for a nearby glass container factory. When dad returned from Europe at war’s end, she became a full time house keeper. Ours. Money was not plentiful, yet the decision was made to garden extensively, process & preserve the yields, canning and freezing as well as pickling, jellies & jams, ketchup (yes, for real) to stretch the household income. As deer hunters one freezer in the basement was stocked with cuts of deer meat. Deer hearts were baked, usually a day or two after the hunt. Livers, too. My older brother and I were involved in almost all aspects of our garden. Except the things like canning, blanching, the skilled parts.
I’m sorry I got so long winded (and didn’t mention she was the pianist/organist for church and sang solos and duets). Well before her demise her finger joints were quite arthritic. No nail polish ever. An excellent seamstress, she sewed our shirts and britches until we started 7th grade. She & dad dressed plainly.
We ate well and I got a strong body to show for it! 💪🏻 And so much more.
Hi Gary, I truly enjoyed reading this and learning more about your mom and you. Please, no need to apologize. Keep going. :)
What a beautiful tribute to your Mom! Thanks for sharing. Happy Mother’s Day to you! ❤️
Thank you so much, Loni for being here. Happy Mother's Day! xx