My hands are small, I know, but they're not yours they are my own

Guys, I just quoted Jewel, I think. That fact alone should make up for my long absence from this blog world. The truth is, I've been waiting for something worthy of a post. I started a new job in June which is actually pretty great, but it's kind of all-consuming and I've been struggling to find the balance so not much noteworthy has been going on lately. 

The other day something happened though, and I can't stop thinking about it so I thought I'd share. 

I was on an uptown 6 train from Soho to Grand Central during rush hour and by some miracle of miracles I got a seat! That alone is blog worthy but not what has my mind occupied. I was sitting with my bag in my lap with my hands crossed resting on top and I looked down and staring up at me where my mom's hands! Ordinarily I keep my nails polished and short but for whatever reason that week took the polish off and had no time to reapply or trim, and there they were...her hands. 

As I get older, I see my mom more and more in my reflection, or in photographs. We have the same high forehead, the same slightly crooked and thin-lipped smile, and the same slightly turned down corners of our mouths when we're resting. My face is starting to get tiny lines in the same places I recognize from photos of her in her 30s but for some reason her hands really threw me. 

Her spirit and goodness is the one I most try to emulate. She is the definition of kindness and love and I hope one day someone says the same about me. There is no better compliment. 

These hands have lifted me up, soothed me, and nursed me and so many others back to health over the years are now blossoming at the end of my arms and it makes me so proud. I couldn't take my eyes off of them the whole subway ride. I nearly missed my stop and I lost my unlimited metro card somewhere in the watery-eyed scramble from the subway to Grand Central. 

I can't wait to use these hands to pat future baby (future) to sleep, to rub my toddler's (future) back when they have a nightmare, feed my children (future) chicken noodle soup on a cold rainy day, or roll out endless amounts of cookie dough with them and my mom as we making Christmas cookies. Even though she lives so far away I feel so grateful to have this reminder of her just when I needed it most.