Daddy’s Hands

For our wedding, we were given the cutest ice cream chairs by my aunt’s mother in law.

(Backing up a little – my mother’s family is very close. We spent every holiday with the entire family, including in-laws. It was like I had two extra grandmothers that treated me as one of their own.)

Over the past 15 years, these chairs had seen better days. I walked outside a few weeks ago and saw my dad had taken on a project. He was teaching the kids how to recover the chairs.

Growing up I was always fascinated by my father’s hands. They are strong and always seemed to swallow mine. I watched him fix cars, play guitar, hold mom’s hand, pray, and build bicycles with those hands.

I’m so glad the kids will have memories of his hands.

I remember Daddy´s hands, folded silently in prayer.
And reaching out to hold me, when I had a nightmare.
You could read quite a story, in the callouses and lines.
Years of work and worry had left their mark behind.
I remember Daddy´s hands, how they held my Mama tight,
And patted my back, for something done right.
There are things that I´ve forgotten, that I loved about the man,
But I´ll always remember the love in Daddy´s hands.

~Holly Dunn

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