|Hands with raised veins|
She had hopes the rocker would perform its magic after her busy morning hanging wet clothes on the line while at the same time keeping an eye her little granddaughter who was trying to get up on the board swing suspended by ropes hanging from a beam in the open garage.
Maybe with full tummies and the sound of the floor boards occasionally creaking as she rocked, she and Daisy could both catch a few winks before the Sisters from St. Brigid’s stop by on their round of visits.
As she tried to lean Daisy’s head back into the crook of her ample arm, she was met with squirming arms and legs and questions to deter grandma from her desired intent.
Daisy began gently touching one of the raised ropy blue lines on her grandma’s hands and asked, “What’s that?”
That’s a vein and the older I get, the bigger it gets; it’s also kind of a mark of how much more I love you every year, sweetheart.
Placing a quick kiss on her Grandma’s hand, Daisy said, “You must love me a LOT!”