Nina's Hands

Everybody says there's always something that they remember about their mom. Her voice, a clip in her hair, a certain song. I think of my mom and I always think of her hands. They are perfect. Perfect in that they are always manicured, always soft, always just perfect. And perfect because if ever you are so lucky that they touch yours or even just even just give you a a squeeze on the shoulder, you will feel her undying love that is so momentous. I cannot explain it but her hugs and her hands have power, they have love times a thousand. Sometimes that is all I want when I am down and feeling alone...her hug and her arms and hands on me. They are magic. They make everything better.

Growing up I always remember she painted her nails a beautiful crimson red. And they were always absolutely perfect and pristine. I have since been on the trend of having my nails professionally done and almost always in red, probably because it makes me feel more like her or at least more like the "me" I want to be, which is very much like her. But my fingers and nails will never be as perfect as hers. I guess that extends to everything else as well. My mom, in my eyes, is absolutely the most perfect in everything. And when I say everything, I mean EVERYTHING...she is perfect in my eyes.

My mom came to the Unites States at 21, to visit...or at least that is what she told her family back in Peru. I think she always knew she would stay here. She had a plan and she made it happen. She knew in her soul that she would be something bigger, something better, something different than what perhaps everyone thought she might be. And she did it! She ended up marrying my dad, and well, it was a love story, at least that is how I see it. It could have been a Romantic Comedy movie...she took the bus to work..it was on in bus line...She walks up into the bus...he says "Hola, como estas"...and she is so happy that there is someone that understands her until...he admits that those are probably only the only spanish words he knows. And yet she still goes out on a date with him...oh wait it gets better...they get married down the road!!

Mr. Joe Johns is now going to take out Ms. Nilda Ancaya...but wait...lunch is different than Lonche...and my mom is late because lunch hour is different for her!

Somehow they finally met up. and fast forward many years later, they had me! I have always been told that my dad wanted a girl. I'm not sure he wanted this one. I'm kind of a mess and probably not as successful as he would have imagined, but I'm still a great daughter.

And then he died. Joe Johns died. I don't know if I even know how to handle that. My fingers are tying this, but once I typed that.. died...it hit me. I am not sure I have ever even dealt with his death. I have carried it like a weight on my shoulders, like a weight on my heart. And now at 46 I cannot even imagine what my mom felt when her husband, the love of HER life died. And then to think, that I was not even there for her...I rake myself over the coals for that every day. I can never make it better for her, I will never make it better for her. How can I? And to think, after he died, all I did was make it worse. I got into trouble and then she had to deal with it. I was heartless.

I was sad, I was mad, I was angry, I was not OK. I am still angry, I am still sad, I still do not know how to accept that my father died. My dad died, my daddy died, my one in a million died. He was quite possibly the only human being that understood me, but then again I say that and he only knew me til I was 19, maybe he would hate me now, maybe he would not even know me now. The good thing is that my mom loves me, my stepdad loves me, my son loves me, and outside of that, I cannot be concerned. And my mom's hands are always there! My mom is always there. She is my guiding light ALWAYS, I've said that to her before, but she was always be my guiding light. Her most beautiful hands will always be the sweetest respite to a sad day and their warmth will always make me feel better.