Grandma Spelta (revisted)

I never knew her younger hands. Hands unscarred by life. At my birth her hands had already seen eighty-two years.

All the same her hands were beautiful. Representing all she had seen and done in her life. Each line, each wrinkle told a tale of a place visited, a road traveled or a home built.

Her nails were always neat, clean and trimmed. She never wore nail polish. For, as she was fond of saying things were not done in that way in the old country.

Some of my earliest memories are of observing her hands at work. Sitting in front of the fireplace her glasses perched upon the end of her nose. On her lap rested a skein or two of colorful yarn. In the vivid imagination of my youth she appeared to be a sorceress at work, her knitting needles magic wands. What began, as a skein of yarn would before my eyes transform into a pair of socks, a scarf or a sweater.

My love of cooking, especially Italian dishes, came from watching her work in the kitchen. Everything was made from scratch and the meals she prepared were seasoned with love. I can still see her with her sleeves rolled up flour coating her arms to the elbow, while the dough that she would bake into a savory loaf of bread was gently kneaded.

But my most treasured memories come from watching as she prepared for bed. Her hands, those instruments of creation, would remove golden pins from her white hair. When loose her hair was in my mind as long as Rapunzel's. She sat in front of her mirrored vanity and brushed her hair with an antique silver brush. Every night one hundred strokes no more no less. When she finished her hair reflected the lamplight like the moon reflects the sun. Next she opened a bottle of her favorite hand cream, a gift from one of her son's, she would rub it into the crack and wrinkles covering her wizened hands.

Finally, kneeling at the end of the bed, her hands would come together, fingers intertwined; she would close her eyes and begin her evening prayers, in Latin. My sleep filled eyes would close and I would float away lost in the murmur of ancient words falling from her lips as she recited the Lord's Prayer.

Grandma Spelta first appeared 2/23/04.