Tuesday, February 28, 2012


One of my twitter friends, Maiden Jane, posted an interesting task on her blog...share a picture of your hands.  For some reason this struck a chord with me and I knew I wanted to participate in the link-up.  I can remember being a little girl and playing with my mom's hands.  She didn't like her hands, but I love(d) them.  Her nails were always manicured and painted clear.  It was only for nice occasions that she painted them any color and that color was always a muted mauve or light pink, never a bright color.  I can picture the nail polish bottles as I sit here.  She was tragically taken from us 7.5 years ago in a car accident, and oddly enough when I (stupidly) envision the accident, I don't see her face, I see her pale fingers gripping the steering wheel as she always did when she drove.  My hands remind me of my moms and I hope I keep remembering that as I age.

So anyway, onto my picture.  I don't try to throw myself a pity party, but those generational photographs where baby, mom, grandma, great-grandma all have their hands on top of each other drive me bonkers.  If you have one, no disrespect...in all honesty I'd probably have one too if I had the ability.  The only reason I don't like them is because they remind me of what I do not have - my mom or my grandmas.  But two Christmases ago, my dear friend (Beth Tilley Green Photography) photographed my little family of 3.  When I saw the pictures I was immediately drawn to the picture of my hand holding Kaylee's.  It is officially my favorite photo and is hanging on our wall.  And so, here is my picture of my hand doing what I think is it's most important job...guiding Kaylee.  Tonight she held my hand as we walked from the kitchen to the dinner table, just because!  I didn't want to let go.  Figuratively I don't think I ever will.

1 comment:

  1. Kate, what a beautiful post. The photo of your daughter grasping your finger is precious - and speaks volumes to that amazing relationship between parent and child. I am so sorry about the tragic loss of your mother. I don't think we realize the pain of losing a parent until they are gone. I know that I still think about my father who died four years ago. The touch of the human hand is a powerful force and I still love to hold my 12 year old son's hands. He hasn't pulled away yet! And we hold our hands when we pray. Your lovely memory of your mom's painted nails are a beautiful image to hold dear. Thank you for sharing.