My Mother’s Hands

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Sun likes to hold my hand when she is readying herself for a nap.  Actually, she likes to hold just one finger in her small hands.  She’s done this since she was born.  She’d hold your finger as she bottle fed. 

My mother commented once that Sun has my hands.  I looked more closely.  And although her thumbs don’t appear to be double-jointed like mine (and the thumbs on my mother’s side of the family), her hands do indeed look like mine.  And my hands, in turn, look like my mother’s and, in turn, her mother’s.  The shape of my fingernails resemble my father’s nails, and my brothers’ nails look like mine too.  But the movement of my hands remind me very much of the movement of my mother’s hands.

I never quite realized the similarity before.  I have never been overly fond of my hands–they are small but not delicate or striking.  And my cuticles are always ruined; but that is my fault and not genetic. 

It took me using my hands as a mother to Sun to realize I had my mother’s hands all along.

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