Life Through a Mother’s Hands

**previously published by All Rights Reserved in 2008**

            We are elderly now; we have felt the world through our fingertips. Disfigured and full of arthritis, making a move is now difficult for us. What can you expect from ninety‑four year-old hands? Once we moved like magic making beautiful music come out of the piano that sat in my human’s parlour. How the children loved to sit and listen to us chime out old tunes. Now this old house where we sit is empty. The children have left home and moved away where they have their own lives, but I haven’t forgotten wiping away their tears and embracing them in their times of joy and sorrow. We have but ourselves to converse with, eight twisted fingers, and two thumbs who have shared a lifetime together.

            “The times we used to have,” said the right index finger. “Remember how long we had to hold onto the handle bars of Nellie’s bike, but eventually she was ready to reach out with her own replicas of a younger us.”

            “Being Miss Caroline’s hands have given us many adventures,” answered the left pinkie.

            “We first got to touch her beloved Isaac’s hands, their warmth radiated our souls, and I still wear his token of love seventy-five years later, even though he has been gone for more than a decade,” said the left ring finger.

            “Holding the wee babes just as they entered this world, all five of them and the life they have given us since then.”

            The calluses and blisters that we have gotten along the way are not a hard price to pay for the happiness we have received. These hands still sting with the want to smack Clark Davis when he dumped Annie at the alter. He decided marrying a Culhane, even for their money wasn’t an acceptable thing to do. The poor girl cried buckets, some of them soaking into our flesh as we cradled her gently like when she was little. Now she has what she deserves, a husband, children and grandchildren to brighten her days. I hope the whole family comes to visit soon, all forty-three of them; they’d give us useless old hands something to do.

            I wish we could go back to the days when we moved like lightening loving, fixing, and caring for everything in our path. The days when children came running in wanting us to caress their kittens and fix their dolly’s boo boos have all but gone, only to return on their brief visits and even then I seem incapable of doing even the simplest of tasks with my ineffective fingers. How they want to move but can’t. The strife knowing that we are no longer able to do the things we once did is overwhelming. We used to make beautiful hand crafted quilts for our children, grand children, and great grandchildren but now we can no longer hold a needle or the scissors needed to cut the cloth. We once did great things, we had a family who needed us, and we got out in the community and took food to the less fortunate. We played cards well into the night but now my hands cannot hold the things that I love. Our days of glory have come and gone but thankfully, even through the pain of each tiny movement we make we can remember how things once were, in us are the memories, the feeling of the wrapping paper on a homemade gift, the washcloth’s water and soap soaking into us as we cleaned a popsicle stained face, hands gripping each other. We were given everything in this world, the greatest gift, being a mother’s hands.

Planning Ahead

by: Rebecca Taylor

**Previously published by Twisted Endings in 2013**

He thought he knew how to live and take care of his family; everything had been going along so well. But he didn’t know what was going to happen, he couldn’t have known. He didn’t have a crystal ball or a secret connection to something divine. He was just a man, with a wife who had a baby on the way and now he was out of a job. He’d been working at the same place for over ten years and now suddenly all that he had put into being a good employee was being taken away. He had a month left of being the breadwinner for his family and by then his wife would be on maternity leave and he would have to collect unemployment. He should have thought ahead, he should have planned and had an emergency fund but he hadn’t. He had always figured there would be time for that, for now, thinking let us enjoy our money and have vacations and dinners out before the children came. Now, they were coming and not only would his child change his life forever but if he didn’t figure something out fast, they might not have a home for it to live in. He should have known never to take things for-granted, hadn’t his economics teacher taught him better, he should have known.

He picked up his lunchbox and his letter explaining that he was a good employee but that the company was downsizing and he was among those who would unfortunately no longer be employed at the River Ends Construction Company. He had worked assembling furniture. That was what his experience consisting of, cutting out the templates and putting them together based on the company’s specific blueprint designs. It wasn’t a job that other companies were screaming to find people for. It was Friday afternoon and he headed out the door towards his car. For a moment, he turned around and glanced back at the brick building, knowing that he would be back on Monday but that it wouldn’t be long before he would no longer be able to say that. He drove home, the half hour passing too quickly for him, knowing that he would have to tell his wife. He walked in the house and put his lunchbox on the counter. His wife was at the stove stirring something that smelled absolutely amazing. She was humming along to a tune on the radio. He watched her for a moment, savouring the happiness of watching her, giving her another minute to be oblivious to the changes that would soon affect their lifestyle.

“Hey, love,” he said placing his hands on her shoulders.

“Hello,” she answered putting the spoon down and turning to hug him. Then she took his hand and placed it on her stomach. “Your daughter wants to say hello too, she’s moving around like crazy this afternoon.”

“Then, it’s a girl,” he said.

“Yes, my ultrasound confirmed it this morning.”

“She’s going to be beautiful just like her mother,” he answered and then he paused, “we need to talk about something.”

Together they sat down on the sofa, hands intertwined. He took the letter out of his shirt pocket and handed it to her.

“We’re going to be okay,” she said after reading the letter, “I know that look and you’re worrying but that isn’t going to help anything.”

“But, love, the money, you and the baby, the car payments, the mortgage….”

“There’s unemployment and my maternity leave benefits. I know it won’t be our usual income but we also won’t be spending as much money on gas and car repairs. We can eat at home more, and if we have to, I’ll go back to work early because you’ll be here to look after our baby.”

“I don’t want you to have to give up your year off with our baby; I know how much you’ve been looking forward to this. You’ve pored over magazines and admired the baby’s clothing and all the accessories for the bedroom. Now that we know it’s going to be a girl, you have a plan for what you wanted.”

“I’ll scale back. The baby isn’t going to know or care if her clothing is high end or bargain brand. She’s going to be precious in whatever she wears. We probably should have learned to live more frugally before anyhow.”

The next three weeks went by quickly. Tony and Marcia Sutton came home from work each day to each other and they got into the habit of helping each other with the cooking. Tony learned that he actually liked cooking. He never had before. He’d had a change of heart, he decided, he needed to do it, to help his wife, so he might as well try and enjoy it. And he was doing it with his wife in the kitchen while they talked about their days and they traded baby name suggestions.

The day came when Marcia left the insurance office where she worked and went home on preventative leave until her daughter was born and then she would take pleasure in bonding with her daughter during her maternity leave. It was a week later when Tony left his job behind and went home to be with his wife. Despite the circumstances of him being home, Marcia appreciated his company and the extra help around the house. The time went by and finally they went to the hospital and Marcia delivered a beautiful baby girl that her parents named Maria Anne. While his wife and baby slept Tony went across the street with his parents to get a cup of coffee. They were running a promotion and a scratch ticket came with each cup of coffee. Tony’s mother scratched it and revealed the words “please try again.” Tony’s father was a bit luckier and earned himself “2 free cups of coffee.” Tony took a coin out of his wallet and scratched at the golden surface, “Winner of $8000.00” it read. Tony stared at the ticket in disbelief.

“It’s your lucky day, son,” said Tony’s father, “You’ve become a dad for the first time and you’ve got some money to help make all of your futures more secure.”

“I’m planning ahead,” said Tony, “I’m going to put this money in the bank. We never know what might happen when we need to have a contingency plan.”

Fine With That

**Published by Long Story Short in 2013**
by: Rebecca Taylor
You may have blue eyes or maybe they’re green
Or perhaps like mine, they’re brown
But I’m fine with that
We may speak with different accents
Or pronounce our words differently
But I’m fine with that
You may stand with your hands poised when you talk
And I tend to gesture from time to time 
But I’m fine with that
There are some questions I may not find the answers to today
Maybe the replies will come tomorrow or it may take a lifetime
But I’m fine with that 
You might never be a mathematician
And maybe I will never spell some words correctly
But I’m fine with that
Thunderstorms might always scare you
And I’ll probably never like heights
But I’m fine with that
The important thing is that we are people
All different but in some complex way all the same
All flesh and blood and bone                                               
As a world, we need to all be fine with that. 

Garden of Emotions

**Previously published by Long Story Short in April 2015**

by: Rebecca Taylor

Bright colours align the garden path

I look at the marigolds – so yellow and orange

Their delicate faces look like they’re smiling at me

Then I see the forget-me-nots – mostly blue

They remind me to tell the people I love how I feel

Next I visit the multi-coloured tulips

Their blooms open and welcoming ask me to stay a while

In the back are the towering sunflowers

Their height a reminder to stand tall against the elements of life

Now I see the roses – a multitude of hews living together

A message that I need harmony every day

The apple blossoms are gorgeous up in their tree

Their scent delightful and I take a moment to enjoy

Lilac buds are opening on their bushes

I snip a few to take inside with me

To remind me of the bliss I had on my walk.

Determing Emotion

by: Rebecca Taylor

Love is symbolized everywhere

Movies, books and songs

Some like me are a cynic

Until they get a funny feeling

A determining emotion that won’t go away

It plagues them and gives them feelings

Like in those media sources they have seen

And they realize that is what true love might be

This feeling that won’t go away

That makes their head spin

And their ideas change like a roller coaster ride

So fast and furious that they do not know what to do

Except hang onto the threads that weave that love.

Canada

by: Rebecca Taylor
 **Previously published by Halcyon in 2013 for Canada Day.**

 Flags flying everywhere 
 maple leaf encompassing this special day.
 Reliving history,
 as the country joined together
 First four provinces,
 over time a growth to ten and three territories.
 Languages mix together
 the theme is clear in all voices
 This is Canada, proud to be free.

	

The Bronc Buster

 

by: Rebecca Taylor

**Previously published by Rope and Wire in 2010**

The bronc buster’s been thrown

More times than you can count.

Often times they become

Fixtures in the bunkhouse,

For all their broken bones

Don’t permit them out.

 

Don’t know a bronc buster

Who’ll quit, even if he’s in pain

Most bronc busters have a score

To settle with the animal

That sent them flying.

 

A bronc buster won’t admit defeat

Even if he’s thrown,

From the same animal a dozen times.

The bronc buster has a motto,

No bronc buster can’t be thrown,

And no horse can’t be rode.

 

A bronc buster loves the cheers

That he hears a top the horse

He’s breaking, ride ’em cowboy

Nothing’s more rewarding

Than a pat on the back

And a good job cowboy.

That’s what gives the bronc buster

His thunder, his pride for what he is.

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