These hands are not my own...

These hands are not my own.  I look at my long fingers that seem a little chubby but I think that is just a story I have told myself.  When I look at each finger, nail, palm I do not just see my hands, I see my mothers and grandmothers. 

I sit in my big blue chair in aw as I stare at both hands realizing that they are not my own. My mothers, grandmothers, her mother, her grandmother and so on.  My hands carry generations of women who had stories of struggles, victories, families, hopes and dreams just like me.  A generation who passed down their ability to perserver under pressure while keeping their faith intact.  

Sometimes when I take a glimpse at my hands, I do not see mine but I see those who have gone before me.   Mothers, grandmothers, great-grandmothers, aunts, sisters and so forth.  I believe if my hands could talk from voices of my past, with skin that has been shared what I would hear would be “good job Cristina Dolores, follow what your fingers want to do.”

I think the women who have gone before me have left me with stregth, courage and perseverance. 

Not only do I have my mothers side stretching across my palms, I have my fathers side as well and all the women who had worked hard to create businesses so that they could bring their families to this country for a better way of life.

The women from my past, the women whom I have never met and will never meet on this side of eternity have given me the gift of stregth and courage to step into the unknown, to persevere and not give up when the going gets tough. I look at my hands and I realize they are no my own.

Thank you for letting me shares…..

Proud member of the Price/Perez Family heritage
Cristina Dolores Perez-Nole

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