I've said it before & I'll say it again.....it's the little things, the small stops along the road......

Many years ago, I was boarding the bus home from college. I was probably 18 or 19. I placed my hand on the railing of the bus door to help hoist my suitcase up into the bus. It appeared to be stuck. As I tugged away at it, I looked down and caught the glimpse of a woman's well-manicured hand pulling at what she probably thought was her suitcase---but it was mine. I turned around (to let her know that it was my suitcase) to find the cheerful face of the woman whose hand had been pulling on my suitcase. She covered her mouth with her hand in embarrassment and sweetly backed away to allow me to take hold of my suitcase. We smiled at each other. Then, once again, I placed my hand on the railing of the bus door to hoist my suitcase up into the bus. As I did that, I looked over at my hand....noticing how smooth the skin was---no wrinkles, no discolorations. And, it occurred to me how lucky I was to be so young and to have such nice hands. I'm not sure what I was smoking at the time----since it seemed like a rather odd thing for a girl of that age to reflect on. But, reflect I did. As the would-be suitcase hi-jacker entered the bus herself, I stole a quick look at her hand. It was the hand of a mother who was going to town to shop or who was taking a special day trip. Well, that's what I imagined anyhow. Her fingernails were painted a deep shade of red and filed in a little curve. She wore a diamond wedding set on her left hand with a Timex watch at her wrist. Her hands were not as smooth and creamy as mine, I mused. I was so lucky to be so young. And, so lucky to have such nice hands.

Now, I can't say that I thought about that moment very often. Regardless, the seemingly insignificant details of it stayed with me. In fact, it all came back to me the other day.....as I was driving Vince's car to the grocery store. He had come for dinner and parked behind my car. Unless I wanted to jockey cars around, I had to take his vehicle. As I drove along, Toni was trying to configure her brother's new gadget that allows you to play your i-Pod through your car radio. Finally, she got the hang of it and said "this one is for you mother....". Soon, the first notes of an oh so familiar song bellowed out of the radio........Hey Kids......She's got electric boots a mohair suit You know I read it in a magazine.........

We sang along......her lilty little voice reciting all the words and my tuneless voice missing a word here and there. Bliss. A stolen moment in a red car with my daughter.....both of us lost in the music, singing the lyrics together. She knew all the words. I remembered most of them. Together, lost in Bennie and the Jets. As we headed into the final chorus, I glanced down at my hands as they tapped away on the steering wheel. They were the hands of a mother going shopping. Red nail polish. Wedding rings. A watch at my wrist. I peered over at Toni's hands.....small and fragile and smooth and creamy. Then, as if a movie was playing inside my head..... the scene played out......that day in that little college town when I boarded the bus. The seemingly insignificant details of a moment oh so long ago. And now, those smooth, creamy hands are the hands of a mother. Rocking to the beat. But Bennie makes them ageless.............