Mary Ann
At our age, I know that you have looked in a mirror and wondered who is that old lady or old man looking at me. At first, you are shocked, but eventually you get used to him/her looking back at you. A mirror makes it real. You are old!
However, I have come to find another shocking smack-between-the-eyes aging feature that I never gave a second thought to in the past. It is my hand. I was always told I had pretty hands. I inherited my hands from my grandmother who was a hand model in the 1920s. That is no longer true. I see a hand of a crone with wrinkly skin and puffy dark blue veins intertwined in the bones of my hand. There are bony knobs on many of the finger joints and fingernails are ridged and weak. I haven’t gotten age spots yet, but I am sure they on the way surrendering to the many years of sun.

My hand is now just skin and bone. Good grooming with some nail polish helps and jewelry can add some sparkle, but sometimes it just looks like you are trying too hard. As you age, you finger joints enlarge and makes rings impossible to hop over the knuckle. What rings once fit no longer do. Your ring size goes up, and it is not necessarily weight gain.
I do need to look beyond how my hands looks and remember what my hands have done. Each of the wrinkles were hard earned. My hands have lived a long life of many experiences. At first your hands are held lovingly by your parents. Then you grow up and are holding the hands of your husband with rings on your fingers that declare your marriage. Motherhood arrives later when you then hold the hands of your young child, and in the end, you hold the hands of your parents in the last moments of their lives. It is a circle of life. Holding hands is connecting with the ones you love.
Your hands are doers with washing laundry and folding clothes. You are cooking for your family, or it could be just for you. Then there is baking birthday cakes and Christmas cookies. You are tying shoes and braiding hair. You are catching balls and throwing them back. You are planting flowers or sewing a Halloween costume. You are giving a belly rub to your pet. You are playing the piano or typing up your master’s thesis. Your hands are always doing.
You are creating with those hands. Making flower arrangements and painting masterpieces that may only see your basement. You are writing blogs or maybe the great American novel. You are learning calligraphy or quilting or cutting stained glass – all using your hands. You are sewing, knitting, and crocheting. You are holding a camera with your hands and clicking pictures with your fingers. Throwing a pot or carving a sculpture uses your hands. Jewelry making and woodworking are handicrafts. Handi meaning “hand” made. Our hands brings us joy allowing our creativity to flow through them.
Looking back at my life, I realize that my aging hands have brought me so much happiness and are proof of a life well-lived. Exploring the world through touch is such a gift and keeps on giving until your last breath. So, when I now look at those hands of a crone, I must remember they are just souvenirs of my life.














