A Mother’s Hand

A Mother’s Hand

From Chicken Soup for the Soul: A Tribute to Moms

A Mother’s Hand

         I stared in confusion,

         at my left hand,

         looking at the wrinkles,

         around my wedding band.

         It was a hand,

         that was very well known,

         but the hand that I saw,

         wasn’t my own.

         The hand belonged to someone,

         I’d loved as a child,

         my maternal grandmother,

         who was gentle and mild.

         This hand had soothed,

         and comforted me at night,

         as it chased away,

         my childhood fright.

         Firm when it paddled,

         my little behind,

         when I was defiant,

         refusing to mind.

         As I stared it became,

         the hand of another,

         it was the loving hand,

         of my dear mother.

         This hand had guided me,

         all through my life,

         as a child, a teen,

         and then as a wife.

         It had patted and bandaged,

         chased pain away,

         been ready to help anytime,

         night or day.

         Suddenly the hand,

         is once again my own,

         as I realize a mother’s hand,

         is only a loan.

         Passing from mother to daughter,

         like the color of eyes or hair,

         to insure future generations,

         of kind loving care.

Pamela Gayle Smith

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