These wrinkled hands used to hold my tiny hands inside and protect me from the outer world.
These debilitated hands are expert ones that made me beautiful summer dresses and stuffed animals.
These shaky hands embrace me tight, every time when I have to say goodbye....
Hands-- my great-grandmother's hands in mine.
Today I can hold your hands the way you did when I was eight.
I had not looked at it this carefully since then.
I see the trace of time.
I see the sign of a great-grandmother's pride.
And I see the peace that lives in you when you wait for me to come home.
I miss you, great-grand mother.
Taken on 31 Dec, 2011.
With my 91-year-old great grandmother.
