I have her hands

I have my mothers hands, at least the way I remember them. Sometimes when I am doing something mundane, I will look down and see my mother, in my hands.  My sisters and I look like her sometimes... we've all gone through life phases that make me think each of us resembles her, but my hands stay constant.  They always look like hers. 

We are reaching ages, my sisters and I, that will overcome my mothers lifetime.  She passed away at 49 years old.  What seemed old to me then, seems so young to me now.  We're in our mid and early 40's... and it seems so young. 

These days, with a child of my own, I will hear my mothers voice in the things that I say... or I will have thoughts about her that I have never had before.  When I pick up my little Tater Tot, I see my hands and they look like hers and I am stopped for a moment and I sit down my little two year old and tell him what I know of his Grandmother, my mom. 

What fascinates me is the idea that my little boy, and the one on the way, will in some ways resemble me when they are 40.  Maybe their hands, or their feet... smile, laugh?  Who knows... but it is amazing to think that your DNA is passed along and that I treasure my hands because of my mom, and that hopefully my boys will see something in themselves that they know are mine.