If Her Hands Were Here (Ode to Grammy)

If her hands were here
They would find something to hold
Like a ladle or a lamb
Or a hand or a hoe. 
They would not be idle.

She loved to make practical things
Picking up a needle to patch the jeans that day
Then off to paintbrushes and gourds to play.
The knots and bumps
Never slowed those hands.

With such love and patience
Those hands rolled out each long doughy noodle
And cooked just right
Became our families favorite dish
With Mississippi mud cake that night.

A helping hand she’d lend
To anyone who needed anything.
Her hands of hospitality would invite a stranger in
And after tea and a cookie or two
A new friendship would begin.

If her hands were here
They would smooth my hair
To help me get to sleep.
Her voice would sing “sweetest little Missy”
‘Til she didn’t hear a peep.

I’m glad those hard-working
Weather beaten, creative, gnarled hands
Are resting with the saints, but (I’ll bet you a dollar),
She’s already got her eye on
The next perfect gourd Santa to paint!