Friday again. The days fly by when they've turned into summer. Time to write for five minutes on one word. Post it. Link it up at Five Minute Friday. Read the link before yours and leave a word of encouragement OR even better, read through lots of the links of this community of writers and leave comments to inspire them. So the word for today is HANDS. Ready? Set? GO!
Yesterday when I was planting my garden and showing my girls how far away to plant different seeds in the rows, I thought of my mother’s hands. There’s not much I remember about my mother’s hands, but I do remember her hands in the garden. She did the same thing in the garden with me that I’ve done with all my children – dig in the dirt, plant seeds, plant flowers, water, pull weeds, then watch things grow.
I love the feel of dirt on my hands.
And now I’m finding that my kids love the feel of dirt on their hands as they begin their own gardens.
Could I tell you what any of our hands look like? Nope!
In fact, this whole task of writing about hands has made me actually look at my own hands. Broken dirty fingernails from gardening. Tanned a bit from the sun with new freckles. Lines of aging are apparent.
Memorable? Not at all.
But perhaps someday my kids will remember my hands in the dirt in the garden. And you know what? I'm perfectly okay with that and it makes me smile already!