My grandmothers' hands

I'm not sure when it happened, but I looked at my hands one day and realized they weren't my own anymore, they were my grandmothers':

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I'm not unhappy about it tho, I loved my grandmothers and have very fond memories of them and their hands. Hands that worked the soil, baked, cooked, caressed and brushed my hair. The hands of my Grandma Mabel as she handed me a baby chick to hold. My Grandmother Florence's hands as she tucked me into bed when I visited her and she handed me Little House on the Prairie to read.

I look at my hands and I remember all these and more and am glad I have their hands since this means they aren't gone from my life. They are still with me in my hands.
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