[00:04.23]Although we are always in a rush, yet, when the night becomes silent and we have time to meditate,
[00:11.95]there is always something which will touch our hearts and give us strength.
[00:16.52]That is love, from relatives, friends, lovers …
[00:23.17]1.Mother’s Hands
[00:26.00]Night after night, she came to tuck me in, even long after my childhood years.
[00:33.41]Following her longstanding custom, she’d lean down and push my long hair out of the way, then kiss my forehead.
[00:41.68]I don’t remember when it first started annoying me — her hands pushing my hair that way.
[00:48.00]But it did annoy me, for they felt work-worn and rough against my young skin.
[00:53.88]Finally, one night, I shouted out at her, “Don’t do that anymore — your hands are too rough!”
[01:01.06]She didn’t say anything in reply.
[01:03.89]But never again did my mother close out my day with that familiar expression of her love.
[01:09.13]Time after time, with the passing years, my thoughts returned to that night.
[01:14.68]By then I missed my mother’s hands, missed her goodnight kiss on my forehead.
[01:19.90]Sometimes the incident seemed very close, sometimes far away.
[01:24.69]But always it lurked, in the back of my mind.
[01:28.29]Well, the years have passed, and I’m not a little girl anymore.
[01:34.60]Mom is in her mid-seventies, and those hands I once thought to be so rough are still doing things for me and my family.
[01:42.55]She’s been our doctor, reaching into a medicine cabinet for the remedy to calm a young girl’s stomach or soothe the boy’s scraped knee.
[01:50.94]She cooks the best fried chicken in the world... gets stains out of blue jeans like I never could...
[01:57.14]Now, my own children are grown and gone.
[02:00.19]Mom no longer has Dad, and on special occasions, I find myself drawn next door to spend the night with her.
[02:07.70]So it was late on Thanksgiving Eve, as I slept in the bedroom of my youth,
[02:13.04]a familiar hand hesitantly run across my face to brush the hair from my forehead.
[02:19.35]Then a kiss, ever so gently, touched my brow.
[02:23.50]In my memory, for the thousandth time, I recalled the night my young voice complained,
[02:30.03]”Don’t do that anymore — your hands are too rough!”
[02:33.95]Catching Mom’s hand in hand, I blurted out how sorry I was for that night.
[02:39.85]I thought she’d remember, as I did. But Mom didn’t know what I was talking about.
[02:46.64]She had forgotten — and forgiven — long ago.
[02:50.69]That night, I fell asleep with a new appreciation for my gentle mother and her caring hands.
[02:57.03]And the guilt that I had carried around for so long was nowhere to be found.
