Friday, December 31, 2010
Grandmaw's Hands (Magpie #46)
In the winter time Grandmaw would wear leather gloves. "Not those cheap kind" she said "Real Gloves-- that keep the cold all the way out".
She had 'The Arthritis', as seemed inevitable for someone of her age. Arthritis was a cruel master that had robbed her of the hand work that she so loved and left in it's place fingers that would barely straighten and were cold so much of the time.
I remember the ointment she rubbed on them to ease the ache. I will never forget the smell of it-- anything that smells remotely close transports me all the way back to memories of cuddling close to her under the afghan she had crotcheted long ago. It was a comforting smell and it reminded me of Holiday prayers with the family gathered all around. I always made sure I got a spot next to her- she always seemed to be closer to God than anyone and I felt secure with her gnarled hand in mine. Sometimes when I went to bed later I could still smell that smell of her on my fingertips.
Her gloves are empty now and cast aside- but even so I bring them up close to breathe in the scent that lingers and draws me back to her for just a moment.
Magpie Tales is a blog dedicated to poets and writers with the purpose of honing their craft, sharing it with like minded bloggers and keeping their muse alive and well. For more stories inspired by this picture go to http://magpietales.blogspot.com/