Hands

They came to me again in a dream last night. 

First, my Granny was with me again several nights back. 

A couple days ago I dreamed of Mamaw & Papaw’s home–the best ever, in every way: 2715 Alice Avenue. I was there helping pack up things to sell after their passing. 

Feelings of emptiness.  

Last night—comfort. It was all in the hands. 

My Papa’s, layered in soothing roughness from his childhood of farming tobacco fields in Long Ridge, Kentucky. 

More layers from decades on the assembly line at GE’s Appliance Park in Louisville; making stove & oven ranges. 

More still from his daily second job stocking shelves in the Kroger grocery store. 

Large like my own, yet considerably kinder, gentler. Papa’s hands reached out to me last night. 

Jolted to life again, I was overwhelmed. 

It’s been 8 years. 8 years and 2 months since Papa and I clasped our hands together in warm reunion. 

Moved to tears, it was surreal. My grandfather’s comfort reaching to me. 

I do not even know if he was completely there last night. I do not remember seeing his arms, nor his face. 

Just those rough hewn hands; led by a  smile and the heart, as they passed a church bulletin from one brother to another every Sunday morning. 

Flooded with peace, I awakened

Then moved forward confidently into a brighter–an imminently brighter–day. 

2 Comments Add yours

  1. Ronelle says:

    This nearly moved me to tears.

    Like

    1. Thank you so much for reading.

      Like

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s