Every year, on Thai Mother's Day, I post the blog below. I didn't get a chance this year so I am posting it now.
I love you Mother. Always. Forever.
My Mother's Hands
I was cooking dinner with my Mother when I noticed her hands. For the first time I saw spots. Brown spots that are the sign of age.
I noticed too, that her fingers were bent and twisted and some had been broken. And her hands told me a story.
They told me a story of a woman who had never been to school but was one of the smartest people I had ever known. A woman that could only write her own name, but knew more about life than many people who have been to school a long time.
I saw hands that had planted rice and held her babies. Hands that had planted rice that very day. Hands that could plow and dig and chop and weave. Weave the most beautiful soft silk you have ever seen. And spin the very thread that is woven.
I saw hands that had lifted her breasts to feed her babies and wiped their tears away when they cried. That combed their hair and dressed them for school. That spanked them when they misbehaved. That touched their cheeks when they were upset.
Hands that washed and mended clothes. Swept the house, did the dishes, made the food, and I think sometimes held up the sky.
I saw hands that showered her babies with water scooped from a big jar and fed them little bits of food when they were ready. Hands that held everything together. Especially when it seemed all would fall apart for sure.
Hands that fixed things when they were broken. Hands that showed thanks when things were well.
Her hands had been bloodied and bruised and scratched and scraped and scarred. And they were the most beautiful hands I had ever seen.
When the cooking was done, I watched as she put the food on the plate. As she waited until everyone had taken a bite. As her right hand picked up the sticky rice and a bit of chicken and dunked it in the spicy sauce. As she ate it and waved her hand in front of her mouth because it was so spicy hot. As she laughed and smiled.
I smiled and laughed with her and looked at her hands. Waved my hand in front of my mouth too.
After dinner and after my family had gone to bed, I took a shower.
And then I got out the nail clippers and cut my nails very short. I took off the nail polish.
She was already asleep when I went to bed. But I looked at her.
I put my own hands together in front of my face. I left them there for awhile. Because I wanted it to be a wai of gratitude and love.
And that is the way I hug my Mother.
With my heart. | 
