I see love: A Tribute to my momma on her Birthday

I remember a few specific times growing up when my mom mentioned she didn't like her hands. She said they had age spots on them and made her look older than she is.

This comment always surprised me. When I look down at my mothers hands, I see many things, but not wrinkles or age spots.

I see her hands brushing my hair as a little girl and putting curlers in it when I wanted to look pretty.

I see the hundreds of laundry her hands folded for me.

I see her hands holding a math book late at night, as her brain spent hours trying to figure out a confusing math equation to teach me during our home school years.

I see her hands with rubber gloves on them as she scrubbed toilets and sinks and bath tubs.

I see her out of the corner of my left eye, as her hands put bandages and drops in my right eye after surgery.

I see her standing at the kitchen, hands chopping up vegetables or putting together one of the thousands of delicious meals she has cooked for me.

I see her back to me, as her hands washed dish after dish.

I see her in the mirror, looking so beautiful standing behind me, as her hands button up my wedding dress.

I see her hand squeezing my hand in a dark hospital room while I am in labor.

I see her hands cradling my sweet Amara Kate, cherishing those first precious moments with her grand child.

I see her in the rocking chair, as her hands hold a children's book and she reads bedtime stores to my girls.


No, I don't see any sign of age when I look at my mother's hands. I see hundreds of daily chores. Hundreds of memories. I see love.