My Mother's Hands

Aloha and Welcome to Apartment 206!

I want to commemorate my mother on this day of national celebration.

As a woman blessed with creativity, empathy, and inner strength, my mother has stuck by my side through some of the hardest experiences that life tossed my way. Having spent time consumed by the grips of depression herself, my mother is always there to help me crawl out various holes that depression has caused in my life. Even when I felt like giving up, never would my mother let me. My mother has been a rock that has remained solid and in place throughout my life. I only hope that I can someday return the love and commitment that my mother has showered me with throughout my life. I can only hope that I may be half the mother my mom is to me. The following poem is dedicated to my mother, Marta Thoma, and wirtten with all the love she raised me with!

My Mother's Hands

My Mother is an artist and My Mother is a sculptor.
Her hands are skilled with the gift of creation.

My Mother is a fighter and My Mother is a winner.
Her hands are scarred from bitter fights she refused to lose.

My mother is a giver and My Mother is a believer.
Her hands drip with unconditional love and integrity.

My Mother is a beauty icon and My Mother is a competitor.
Her hands shimmer with pink sparkles of ageless beauty.

My Mother is an inspiration and My Mother is a hero.
Her hands reach near and her hands reach far
supporting the dreams that others chase.