Grandma, almost ninety years old, sat weakly on the park bench. She didn't move. She just sat with her head down staring (凝视) at her hands. When I sat down beside her, she didn't even notice me. I wondered if she was OK. So, I asked her if she was OK. She raised her head, looked at me and said with a smile, "Yes, I 'm fine. Thank you for asking me." "I didn't mean to disturb you, Grandma, but you were just sitting here staring at your hands and I wanted to make sure you were OK," I explained to her.
"Have you ever looked at your hands?" she asked. "I mean really looking at your hands." I slowly opened my hands and stared down at them. And then I turned them over. No, I guess I had never really looked at my hands as I tried to figure out the point my grandma was making.
Grandma smiled and told me the following story, "My hands put food in my mouth and clothes on my back. They tied my shoes and pulled on my boots. They held my husband and wiped my tears when he went off to war. They were uneasy when I tried to hold my newborn son. Decorated with my wedding band, they showed the world that I was married and loved someone special. They wrote my letters to him and shook when I buried my parents. They held my children and grandchildren and comforted my neighbors. They covered my face, combed （梳） my hair and washed the rest of my body. These hands are the mark of where I 've been and the ruggedness (崎岖) of life."
I never look at my hands the same again. When my hands are hurt or when I touch the faces of my children and my husband, I think of my grandma. I know I can also create a bright future using my hands.
