We are outside sending Daddy and Lucas off to school. Lola waves with her whole hand and whispers “bye-bye” over and over and my heart almost explodes from the cuteness.
My favorite part of my daughter, next to her joy filled smile, sparkling eyes and mostly cheerful disposition are her hands.
Tiny and soft they are in constant movement.
I love to watch each finger.
Always curious and busy feeling fabrics, pressing buttons, turning pages of board books and pointing to the pictures inside, searching for tags and picking up minuscule pieces of lint as she crawls up the stairs.
Unless we catch her, she puts everything in her mouth.
Lola shows her love and appreciation by doling out “pat-pats”. It’s the sweetest gesture.
Someday these hands will hold mine as we cross the street. Her small fingers will fit neatly inside mine.
Someday her hands will reach for her brother in a time of need.
Lola’s hands will grow and change and they have so much life ahead of them.
With her hands, she’ll pick flowers from our neighbor’s garden,
Grasp a crayon to color in and outside of the lines,
Tie the laces on her sneakers,
Hold the handlebars of her bicycle and pretend she’s flying.
Carefully she’ll use her hands to wrap boxes to put under the Christmas tree,
Braid her best friend’s hair,
Create melancholy music on a cello or piano,
Support her weight in a handstand,
Furiously type an email or best-seller,
With her hands, she will apply lipstick, sunscreen, shave her legs and pick at scabs she knows are better off left alone.
She will whisk eggs for a cake and lick icing off her finger,
Grip the steering wheel of her first car in anticipation of getting on the freeway,
Wipe away tears and hold her face in her palms.
I hope she has a good strong handshake and keeps her nails well manicured.
On her left hand I hope she’ll wear a wedding ring.
And more than anything, I hope her hands one day carry a child of her own.
A longer version of this post appeared on Mamalode, May 1, 2015.
