Sometimes I am doing something when I see my hand
It shocks me, if only for a brief moment of time
For I think, I see my Momma’s hand. It startles me for I know she is not here, she is beyond the Veil, somewhere.
This sudden ‘seeing’ of Momma started sometime this farming season, I can’t pinpoint when.
But there she is, just for a moment, reaching through the veil touching me, gathering me close, stirring my heart, filling my mind with the memory of her and her tender yet firm love of me.
I am now older than Momma when she died. I no longer have a compass, a way to approach each day, year, or a single tiny bit of time. She passed away, many years ago- the year 2000, when she just turned 71.
Thank you, Momma, for the brief, gentle time of walking with me, I know you are with me when I see your hands on mine.
From my heart to your heart,