Handprint on My Heart

A treasured friend told me today that I’ve left my handprint upon her heart (she quoted a line from a song she heard on the way to SWEAT with me, and said it spoke to her of me). Of course, I felt a welling of emotion. She’s left her handprint upon mine, too. That’s what we do in this life, isn’t it (if we do it right)? We leave our marks upon each other, upon the rising generation, upon the land, upon whatever it may be that will remember us when we’re gone… As I write, I’m sitting in the room with my mother-in-law, as her breathing grows increasingly shallow by the hour and her feeble heart grows tired of beating. Her body is aged and failing. She’s lived a long and wonderful life. Not only did she bring six boys and a daughter into this world, but she raised them in the hills, on a farm, in a little two-room cabin, with no modern utilities. She raised happy children and happy grandchildren who were, and ever will be honored to call her mother. She did it right. This fine lady has left her handprint with more indelibility than most, I’m honored to say. She won’t be soon forgotten, though babies will arrive after she’s gone, and old ones will die, taking her memory with them to their own graves, in time. Any who wish to know, may find her in the pages of books she’s written. I found her there. I found her humor and charm in stories and recipes shared. I discovered her relaxed and friendly way of chatting with friends. She wrote like she speaks (like I do). I found Maxine; a country woman, confident to remain simple, unpretentious and unafraid of the judgments of foolish people who think money, houses or position buy happiness or class. She knew, even when she was a much younger woman, that the most important things in life aren’t things. She wrote what she valued. I read her. I know her. She’s left her handprint upon my heart. (Thank you for sharing those words, Becky.) May the threads of thought and ideas, that bring reader and writer together, be strong cords to draw our hearts in common awareness of our human condition. We’re all here together, until we’re gone. We’re remembered, until forgotten. Reader, be wise. Leave your handprint upon someone’s heart. “So, let me say before we part, so much of me is made of what I learned from you. You’ll be with me like a handprint on my heart, and now, whatever way our stories end, I know you have re-written mine...” (For Good, from the Broadway production, Wicked)