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Spokane, Washington  Est. May 19, 1883
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Huckleberries Online

My Grandmother’s Hands

I'm not sure when it happened, but I looked at my hands one day and realized they weren't my own anymore, they were my grandmothers'. I'm not unhappy about it tho, I loved my grandmothers and have very fond memories of them and their hands. Hands that worked the soil, baked, cooked, caressed and brushed my hair. The hands of my Grandma Mabel as she handed me a baby chick to hold. My Grandmother Florence's hands as she tucked me into bed when I visited her and she handed me Little House on the Prairie to read/JeanC, JeanC's Cat House & Shooting Gallery. More here.

Question: Have you noticed something about your physical appearance that indicates you're becoming more like your parents or grandparents?

D.F. Oliveria
D.F. (Dave) Oliveria joined The Spokesman-Review in 1984. He currently is a columnist and compiles the Huckleberries Online blog and writes about North Idaho in his Huckleberries column.

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