Seeing.

I remember when I was growing up, my Mom would play the piano at night as we were all winding down for the evening.  She would play primary songs, hymns, classical music, songs that her mother used to sing to her . . . playing through her favorites.

I always loved it when my mom played the piano at night, it just brought a calm safe feeling to the house, and definitely made it feel like home.

Tonight, I was playing the piano (with my meager piano skills) and happened to look down to see my Mother's hands.  No, she isn't visiting right now, (although that would be pretty sweet!), but when I saw my hands stretching to hit this key or that, I saw them:  hands that held her babies close and now her grand-babies;  that every year plant and tend a massive garden, can as much of the produce as possible, create the most amazing and highly numbered pies every year, sew quilts, pajama pants, wedding dresses, anything necessary, carry fresh bread to a neighbor or friend in need, train horses, carry hand pipes back and forth across acres of pasture, drive her children anywhere they need to go, offer service, still hold my dad's hand whenever possible, play the music that we all love to sing to, or just listen to as we are nodding off to sleep . . .

Thanks Mom, I count myself pretty lucky, and grateful.