Nurturing Hands

by Renee
(Melbourne, Victoria, Australia)

Hands represent giving and nurturing to me and when I think of nurturing I think of my grandmother. She used to wrap her arms around me, my face snuggled against her soft voluptuousness, while she gently scratched my back. We would laugh and sing, “We love each other, we love each other” as we hugged. Her hands were always busy with something. She provided great joy to many as she played the piano and organ, often to people in retirement and nursing homes. Even when she reached the age to live in one herself, she’d play for the residents with dementia and Alzheimer’s Disease. She also loved to play solitaire, met her friends once a week for a game of bridge and did crossword puzzles. She sewed outfits for me and my dolls, and knitted hats, vests and sweaters. As her arthritis worsened she made one last gift for each member of the family, a hand-knit Afghan blanket. It was painful for her to complete the last of them, but she was determined to finish so that every member of the family would be included. She was also always busy making something in the kitchen. She baked delicious cakes and cookies, in fact in the 1950’s they wrote an article in the local newspaper about her wonderful cookies! She would bake large batches and carefully wrap and store them in the freezer so that I always had a treat when I came home from school. Being an only child, she learned how to entertain herself with all sorts of activities and she taught them to me. We made beads out of old magazine pages, built gingerbread houses, designed intricate valentines, and cut down wild pussy willows to bring home and put into vases. I also learned to swing on the long branches of the willow tree outside her house, and swim at the beach club nearby. We shopped for the best quality produce, examining each piece carefully by hand. The butcher at the shop would give me stickers to play with and the baker would hand me a free cookie. My grandma would lift me up to take a drink from the water fountain at the edge of the store. She had such a selfless big heart, always taking care of those around her, which inspired others to do the same, but eventually her heart gave way and she spent her last days in the hospital due to complications after heart surgery. One day I went to see her, machines kept her lungs filling and her heart beating. She supposedly wasn’t conscious, but as I held her hand, I thought she squeezed it. I sat with her, crying, telling her not to worry, everything would be okay, but I suppose I needed to say that for my own benefit. I kissed her on her forehead as I left and she passed on the following night. After her death, her retirement home created an annual award in her honor for outstanding volunteerism. Although I’m not as crafty as my grandmother, I’ve tried to emulate her altruism by giving as much as I can. How easy it can be to save lives, touch someone with kindness, lend a helping hand, or to give generously. May we all find ways to use our hands selflessly for the benefit of all on this planet.