Bastille Black & White
Seeing the world

Hands

January 6, 2007

This photo is today's entry in my 2007 photo diary:

I've been having a rather rough week. Emotionally speaking that is. I've been thinking about my mom a lot lately.  Missing her terribly. I lost her a year ago last November.  Last year was a complete blur. I only started to see clear near the end and with the beginning of this new year, I beieve I finally see where I want to go.

I've scanned a photo for today's entry.  This the photo that is on my bed stand. I look at it every night before I got to bed and it's almost the first thing I see when I wake up.   

Every night before bed, my husband and I have our nightly ritual to tell each other that we love each other. I often lay carressing my husband's hands and I fall asleep.  Growing up, my mother's hands were my "dou-dou" as the French call it. Her hands were my security blanket. My teddy bear. I always remember holding hands with my mom. It was just something we always did.  They smelled of sweet cherries and were as soft as silk.   In all the photos I have of my mother, I always look at her hands. They were always a safe place for me.  After grueling tennis matches in high school, my mother would rub my shoulders. Hugs always included my mother cupping her hands on my face. And excitement always meant an enthusiastic clap of joy from her.  These little things I miss so much. 

I reach down and cup my hands around my growing belly and know that my hands will be as equalling important to our little guy.  I often wonder what memories a baby carries with them when then start their life, I truely believe that deep feeling I have towards my mother's hands stems from the very beginning of my life.  This memory is an intrinsic mark I will carry with me forever.

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