Freckles

I remember the first time you showed me your hand 
and shared a moment of your humanness with me. 
You were worried about getting old, and seeing a small light brown freckle 
on your hand 
must have been tough for you. 
But to me, its beautiful. 
You’re hands are only getting softer. 
Your heart only bigger.
Your smiles only wider. 
I think you cherish everything more now--
at least I know I cherish you more every time I see you. 
I want to remember you, all of you, freckles and all.

The other day, you reached out to fix Ayesha’s hair and as you did, 
the light of the room kissed your skin, and I saw your hands. 
Only this time, the freckles were more prominent. 
There are so many of them now. 
They seemed to speak to me, their small cry of reality hit my ears and my eyes held back tears, 
and I just wanted 
to pull your hands 
to mine 
and kiss them. 

Mother, I want to remember you. 
I want to keep you. 
Here. 

I know I can’t and I won’t be able to ever win this one, 
but I want to remember you like this:
Caring for my sister, your hands have cared for so many hearts over the years, 
and your hands have held my broken heart countless times. 
These freckles are beautiful, but they also scare me. 
So I see them there, but look to the freckles in your eyes instead. 
This will help me remember.