m o t h e r s d a y
The same hands that once held you up to nurse, changed your diapers, patted your back, fixed your snacks, sewed your torn toys, wiped away your tears, wiped up crumbs and messes, folded your tiny clothes, held you in the air and spun around in the kitchen, cleaned up your skinned knees, packed all the suitcases, carried all the beach bags, grasped all the flowers you picked, held your hand across busy streets, applied all the sunscreen, wrote notes for your lunches, felt your forehead for a temperature, rubbed your back as you fell asleep, held and read each report card with pride, took pictures on your field trips, held your chin up through your first breakup, held the phone close when you were out too late, held your college acceptance letter with a smile, held their heart on your wedding day.
Will one day turn into the hands that hold your first ultrasound in tears, that hold your firstborn in awe in a delivery room, that hold you close in the trenches of motherhood, that hold your face and tell you you’re doing perfect, that hold their Bible and pray for you, that carry over meals for your family when you’re overwhelmed, that teach you holiday recipe secrets, that hold your children every chance they get.
Will eventually turn into the hands that can no longer do all of the little things, but can only be held by yours and those of your children, and your children’s children. The memories of everything that makes up a lifetime with you, in their heart forever. A set of hands well-used.
Happy Mother’s Day to all the women that make up these generations of Mamas. Cherish them, love them, hold their hands, and take pictures with them every single chance you get.
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