Where Did the Time Go?
I look down and see an old lady's hands typing. 62 years old, now. Wrinkled, red, veiny. Strong, even though they are beginning to look sort of bent in places. My Mom's hands never got to be this old. She was gone before she hit her 60's. She had very few gray hairs on her head before she lost them all to chemo and radiation. She used to get so excited when she would find one. It's a wonder she even saw them since she colored her hair so frequently. Mom was also big on wigs. Way before the cancer, she owned several. Most of them were blonde. She didn't know it, but she was practicing for her future. I was 26 when she died. She was 55. Her only daughter. My only Mother. My first son had died at the beginning of that same year. I wondered if God was preparing me for her death by taking him first. I'd only known him for 8.5 months, after all. Like God was easing me into the greatest grief a little at a time. Losing my son, I almost lost my mind. Mom was 500