Joanne Wilkinson

My mother’s hands were so swollen
at the end
that they had to cut her rings off
(that’s what they tell me).
The tacky Holly Hobbie ring I bought her
at the end of second grade
and her wedding ring.
They were buried with her
and later, when I was thirty-five,
her diamond came to me.
I look at my hands sometimes–
long fingers, her diamond, some wrinkles
(because I am older than she was),
and I wonder if they look like my mother’s.
I don’t really remember what they looked like,
I only remember the feel
of her fingers entwined with mine
and the sound of her voice as we paused on the curb:
We’re crossing the street. Hold my hand
sweetheart

Joanne Wilkinson is a physician and single mom who writes whenever she has the chance.