Tonight my husband and our daughter took her kids to a minor league ball game. Her husband had to work late so Pop came home early and went along. She sent me two pictures. One after they got there, all snuggled up for the game, pizza in their laps and smiles on their faces.
Then, the picture of my husband holding our granddaughter above his head, all smiles. In his arms. Those arms. My husband has the best arms. Wide, strong. Edged with a bit of a “farmer” tan from working in the yard. Always holding something . Be it me, a grandchild or the water pump from his 66 nova, always holding something.
When I look at those arms I remember years of them holding me. Years of him using his arms and his back to support us, to try to do it all on his own. A proud man with a high school education who worked hard to give us what our friends had….and who balked when I went to work….
Those arms will never cease to make me feel warm, and wanted. And supported.