My Mother’s Hand

I had morning coffee in the sunshine on the deck this morning. As I glanced at my hand wrapped around the cup, I hesitated with a warm familiarity clearly recognizing my mother’s hand.

I recalled the shine of her nails, I remembered her fingers that my once tiny hand would cling too and felt the softness of her skin as I rubbed my one hand across the other.

Many decades have passed since I had this opportunity and for a few heartfelt moments I was given an amazing gift.

I closed my eyes and I held my mother’s  hand.  

Vickie Brickshaw

About the Author | Vickie Bricksaw

Vickie Brickshaw is happily enrolled in a master's program, earning her doctorate in metaphysical science. She is an intuitive medium, and her passion is writing. She enjoys sharing her thoughts, and reading those of others. She believes Women For One is an outstanding forum for interesting and uplifting content.

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