A new appreciation.

Growing up I was horribly shy, loved to read and feared being in the public eye. But one thing I can say most is I was extremely critical of myself.

One thing I couldn't stand the most were my hands and nose. I eventually got over my nose when I started noticing I had my dad's nose. I always liked his nose.

I also have his hands! It seriously looks like someone shrunk his hands and put them on me.
They look great on dad...but too man-ish for me.

My hands are short and stumpy. I always joke about how I have man hand's, Nick tells me they are far from man's hands but I tended to disagree.

Then a few weeks ago while waiting in the van for the boys to be let out of school I caught a glimpse of my hands and felt a gush of emotion.

There in front of me were my grandmothers hands. I saw them patting my cousin Libby's bottom while trying to put her to sleep. I saw them brushing my hair and putting them in pig tails so tight that it squinted my eyes beyond belief (those pig tails were torture!).

I saw myself as a teenager holding her hands telling her I wanted to manicure her nails and watching her get a kick out of me polishing them bright red or vamp maroon.

I no longer long for my sisters slender, beautiful fingers and dainty hands.
I love my short hands, I have grandma's hands.

Now if only these hands could make rice like grandma did,then all would be perfect!