Hands with memories ...

My mom and I went to get Schwarmas at the new Donair shop in Canyon Meadows. It is a quaint little family run shop with tourism posters of Lebanon up on the walls. Not the kind of shop that you would normally find in a SW community mall. The daughter, maybe 8 opened the door for us and took a break from gnawing on a straw to give us a big smile. The extra drinks were in boxes stacked beside the drink refrigerator and the smell took me back to a different world I once lived in. In the City of Cagayan De Oro in the Philippines, just around the corner from the University, and down the street from the courtyard where all the homeless kids gathered at night was the most amazing schwarma place. That is where I fell in love with the yumminess that is the schwarma.
The young, beautiful wife and mother with her head covered rolled the meat her husband cut without a glance at what she was doing. I watched her hands as she did this and was mesmerized. I love hands. I love to think about all the memories they have. I love to watch hands doing a task that they have done a million times and seem to be acting without any direction. It got me to thinking about what my hands can do without me having to think about it. I wish that I could say knitting but I am far from that level yet. You know what I came up with? I can rub someone's back or run my fingers through their hair ... Without realizing I am doing it. Although years of medication have left my mental memory weak ... The memory in my hands to show other people love is strong. And as I think about it more ... Is not most everything that we do with our hands out of some kind of love. I could see love in the schwarma ladies hands ... Love of her family ... Love that makes her able to role hundreds and hundreds of schwarmas.