My Father’s Hands

Baby and Older Persons Hands
I have my Father’s hands.
Wide palms, long straight fingers, healthy nails, veins popping out, strong and gentle.

One of the most beautiful things I have seen is his hand holding the hand of my newest Grand Niece and she just didn’t want to let him go.

I don’t want to let him go.

In his mid 80's, my Daddy is still picking up the 2-year-old. Playing with the 4-year-old. Following (slowly) the 3-year-old. All this, as my Mother is playing up and the down the stairs with the others, she's making up games, dropping clothespins into a milk bottle, filling up water balloons, reading stories: "One Was Johnny" - "Chicken Soup With Rice". Stories that were read to me, from the same Nutshell Library.

They are bushwhacked when the kids go~
Dead tired.
I watch them sleep.

And they won’t give it up because these things are the best part of Life.
I don’t blame them.

Life is for Living.
And Kids keep us alive by holding our hands.

I have my Father’s hands.

Photo: Todor Atanasov - Protection

15 Comments on “My Father’s Hands”

  1. This is absolutely wonderful!

  2. esther says:

    my dad died when i was 19. whenever i looked in the mirror, i saw him looking back. as i’ve gotten older, more of my mom looks back now. xx glad you have both 🙂 ❤️

    • dievca says:

      Thanks, Esther. I am trying to make sure I value every moment because they are getting older. Now, as I say that I do have to mention the deafness and taking life at a different pace than NYC can have its moments, but I just take a deep breath-roll my eyes and say…”Moooom! Dad is in my kitchen, tell him to get out.” 😀

  3. So tender. Fills me with nostalgia. A beautiful piece Dievca xoxo

  4. This is beautiful.
    Hold on tight and enjoy the ride; life is for living!


  5. Sarah says:

    I am planning a poetry workshop on hands, and I would love to use the image and some of your lovely words, crediting them to you as inspiration.


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