There's rosemary, that's for remembrance.
William Shakespeare: Hamlet, Prince of Denmark



Sunday, June 17, 2007

Time on my hands






I had a new friend leave a comment on my last blog...her name is Mom.

I visited her blog and as I usually do, I went back to the beginning to see why she blogs. Her posts are wonderful, full of family love, travels and her faith. Along with encouraging you to visit, I am making it known that I am stealing a bit of one of her posts. She wrote about her hands, their appearance, what age spots mean to her, and how she is embracing her silver years. This started the following rambling thread.....


In going through the "stuff" I came across an envelope with some things my dad had written and documented. I never thought of my dad as Einstein. He had a 7th grade education when he ran away from home. I never saw him write a letter. The most I ever saw him write was a grocery list. But I found a tender letter he had written to my mom in 1962. He had driven to Ohio and Virginia on the yearly trek across country to visit the relatives with my 10 year old brother. My mom stayed behind because I was pregnant with my first baby and she was helping me.


His letter talked of missing her and me, hoping for a grandson and all of the good food he was eating. His salutation was, Dear Mommy. While I am sure that was not the way he thought of my mom...as his mommy....to my folks calling each other mommy and dad were like me calling Steve honey.


I also found a large stack of cards with the rainfall amounts for a ten year period...see pic above. He was exact in dates, times and amounts that had fallen. This got me thinking of how I resemble my dad......I am meticulous in my record keeping...I don't always rely on my computer but keep handwritten records as well. I still write a lot of checks and keep receipts forever. I have my dad's ears, his arms and absolutely have his hands.


My dad was creative with wood. He made toys, furniture, gifts and special "blocks" to wedge between the water pipes that were loaded on trucks. He renovated (actually gutted) my mom's kitchen and made cabinets, a bar and desk from cherrywood. I am not creative one little bit with my hands....but then I wonder if the creativity comes from the hands or the mind's eye?


My hands, like Mom's, are no longer smooth, have age spots and bulging veins. My fingers are short and stubby, the knuckles prominent and my nails are short...just like my dad's hands. My arms bruise easily and the skin is starting to crinkle. But I have done some great things with my hands and arms...not creative so much but just wonderful things......


Hugged my dad and touched his face

Brushed my mom's hair when she was dying

Held three of the most wonderful babies in the world

Put my grandchildren on my shoulder and held their heads close to my neck

Touched sweet violets and felt their softness

Picked up a fallen bird and put it back in its nest

Given a million pets to my cats and dogs

Turned the pages of glorious books

Made a snowball

Pushed and pulled a vacuum about 17,000 times over my floors

Typed 341 blog posts

Picked up a rusty fall leaf

Learned to tie my shoes

Started a thousand IV's, dressed another thousand wounds

Held a glass to a child's mouth

Slammed doors and opened windows

Worn a ring for 21 years that has the name of the man I love right next to my name

Touched Steve's shoulder every night just before I fell asleep

Rubbed oil on my parent's headstones


Yup, my hands are old but boy they sure have had a glorious time over 62 years

14 comments:

Auld Hat said...

Misting up. (dab dab)
In all seriousness though, that was a most beautiful and intimate post Rosemary. I feel like I've known you for years.

Lilli & Nevada said...

Rosemary,
You truly know how to capture things How do you do it?

kenju said...

Rosemary, this is a very wonderful post! You made me remember the hands of my mom and grandmom, which mine are looking like now. I love your list!!

Mom said...

Thanks, Rosemary. Your words are wonderful and I feel honored. Isn't it good to make new friends.

Sling said...

That was eloquent and very touching rosie.A terrific post!

Ex-Shammickite said...

What a thoughtful post.
Did you get good marks at school when it came to writing essays? Or does your insight and ability with words come with experience over the past 62 years?
My hands are just like my mother's hands. Same shape. Same skin texture. Same abilities.

BTW, the calligraphy is all done... did the last 3 tonight. That's around 80 addresses on envelopes. Plus the names on the inner envelopes. And then when the replies come in, I'll be making place cards. And even tho I say it myself.... they look GOOD!

Cazzie!!! said...

Rosemary, this is such a thought provoking post, I love its sentiment, it makes me happy and sad at the same time.
Yes, our hands, we take for granted every day of our lives. Thank goodness we have them. As a mum, as a nurse, I would so be lost without them. The mind's eye, yes, it has everything to do with what we do with our hands :)

Michele said...

I popped over to your blog from Joan and wanted to say that this was truly a beautiful post that indeed brought a tear or two to my eyes. Thanks for sharing that.

Tracey said...

That was a beautiful post, Rosemary!

Paul said...

That was excellent, Rosemary! Thanks. And thanks for introducing us to MOM. Cute sophomore picture, too. I would have asked you to dance.

Chandler said...

You spoke really well here, this was a very moving post. I hope I get to do half as many fantastic things with my hands :)

Lorraine said...

What everyone else said. Beautiful.

Janet said...

Loved this: "Slammed doors and opened windows" - you might have meant it literally, but I took it metaphorically.

GREAT post!

Hi, Michele sent me :-)

Middle Child said...

This made me cry (again) but thats okay because when beautiful things make you cry it means you are alive