I loved my mothers hands. They were small and soft and always warm. Her skin was wrinkly and her nails were short. I used to hold her hand whenever I could. I don't know why but my mothers soft, warm hands were always comforting. She's been gone almost 17 years and I can still remember the feel of them.
I noticed the other day while typing that my hands now resembled hers. I have small hands, thin fingers and my skin is soft and wrinkly, just like hers were. It gave me a warm feeling inside.
Then I started to sweat. Drops of perspiration running down my face as I swapped my long sleeve t-shirt for a short sleeved one. I throw open my window and fan in some cool autumn air as I mumble to myself about the cost of heat. Then I make my rounds, checking thermostats. I stop beside my husband. "The hydro bill will be astronomical if the house is always this hot!" I tell him.
Then I was cold. Geesus! What was I thinking, opening a window? Was I trying to freeze myself? It's 9 degrees outside! I, again, mumble to myself as I check the windows, making sure they are closed tight. "My arthritis will surely flare up now." I tell my husband. I swap my short sleeve for a long sleeve and wrap a sweater around my shoulders.
Bad mood increasing, I sit down at my computer and start to sweat. Again.
Fuck.
