Momma's Hands

I saw my mother's hands the other day. I was driving, just motoring along and looked down at the steering wheel and there they were. The skin colour was a deeper shade of mocha and the fingers were fatter but they were her hands.

I continue to think about my mom. She never leaves my mind completely but here lately she's been at the forefront because the weather's changing and getting cooler. Cooler weather was my mom's time of year and that made it our family's time of year.

At the first sign of cooler weather Momma's "cooler weather" rituals began. And always the first ritual was reviewing winter church outfits. Momma would start pulling out last season's outfits, reviewing for tears and stains, and sorting into which were sent to be dry cleaned first. Next would be an inventory of her hats shoes and matching purses. And if she didn't feel she had what she needed? A quick call to Donna Vinci for an order. She made it easy to be prepared.

Momma did more cooking when the weather changed too, but this isn't an anomaly in Phoenix. More stews and dishes with sauces were prepared, including menudo and my favourite, boiled turkey wings and white rice.

So I was driving down the road, the windows down, radio blasting and I look down and see my mom's hands. Today they look like mine, not Momma's and I don't know why they looked different that day. Maybe it was the way I was holding the wheel. Maybe the lights hit them just right. It could have been because I was enjoying a cool 85 degrees, I don't know.

I will confess that I took Momma's hands and wiped the errant tears that had slipped unawares down my face. The sadness didn't last long. I was too busy thinking about where to buy turkey wings and when I should make the first pot of menudo.