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Selection 9 of

Mom, Pass the Keys Please

by Janet Leonard
Tossing long, brown strands
across her shoulder,
she flashes a confident smile
while walking happily
toward our front door,
keys jingling in her hand.

I notice and remember those hands...

...her baby fingers,
each one traced delicately,
held so tenderly
when she was new,
an infant in my arms;

...small, chubby toddler fingers
reaching for Cheerios- "little O's"--
to move them toward her mouth;
hands clapping when she got them in;

...little hands clasped,
held reverently together,
as she'd say, "God is great--
God is good.";

...young, jittery hands,
steering a wavering,
no-training-wheels bicycle,
trying so hard to miss hitting a tree;

...trained hands that caught fly balls
at softball games and practices;

...hands that have nervously played
at scheduled piano recitals.


Now I stare at this great machine
managed by my daughter's hands.

As she leaves our driveway alone,
I inhale deeply and remind myself
to exhale calmly.

In a prayerful response,
my hands, gently clasped,
open toward sky
like releasing a dove.

Her sweet smile
and the nod of her head
provide the confidence
that I need for these moments,

experiences of a new taste of freedom,
embraced by unquestionable hope.


Selection 9 of

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Copyright © 2003 by Janet Leonard. All rights reserved.