My Mother's Hands

I am approaching the second Mother's Day without my mom. To be honest, I push her absence to the far corners of my mind and primarily focus on the time I have left with my dad. I know that as long as daddy is near, mom is never far away because the two were the epitome of one flesh. A couple of weeks ago dad and I took mom's wedding band to the jewellers to be sized for me. What a precious gift. When I picked it up the other day, I slipped the ring on my finger and took a sudden breath. I suddenly saw my hands as I'd never seen them before.... They are the hands of my mother. The hands that rolled out pie crusts when I was small. The hands that made many a apricot pies. The hands of love when she comforted me and the hands of steel when she disciplined me. My hands have the same blush to them, the same texture, the same markings. I can push her absence to reassess of my mind. I can block the memories both good and bad, but I will forever carry her in my heart and as I see now, I will always have her hands.