Those Hands

by thewallflowerchapter

As I lock the back gate
I turn back and take a good look
At my sparkling white kitchen

Herbs crowding out the countertop
Tablecloth and utensils
Food in messy plastic bags
Assorted ingredients in the fridge
All gone

It feels good to have my kitchen back
But mixed with that relief
Is a sense of sadness

Will I miss all that chopping, cooking, cleaning?
Probably not
But I know
I’ll miss those aged hands
Hands that lovingly travels to this kitchen
Washes up after my every meal
Rakes leaves in my garden
Waters the grass
Scrubs the backyard walls
Wrings out the laundry
And holds my little girl

Yes I’ll miss those hands