I love these hands.
They’ve made chicken soup for me when sick as a child, written letters and cards sent by mail just because, and have enfolded me in the best hugs.
Over Christmas, we played a game where we drew questions and had to answer them aloud. She didn’t like the question, so we cheated and swapped our slips of paper.
Question: “what is your favorite body part of yours?” Answer: My hands.
Because they look like her hands. Because they are not big enough to be a pianist’s hands but not too small to give a high five or whip up a warm drink for my favorite gal.
I began associating my mom with Turmeric during our last trip together to Mexico City but I won’t spoil it for you. To read the story and snag the spiciest drink to wake up your mornings sans caffeine, google The Food Poet Golden Milk. Stay warm, friends. #foodpoetfeed
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