I know I am not the only one who feels a little sad around the holiday season. It is always the time I am reminded of the amazing holidays that I had as a kid. I remember huge, messily decorated trees and houses. I remember so many presents under the tree that we could not walk past the fireplace. They were wrapped in paper from the year before and pieces that must have been in storage since my mom was a kid.

There were no Polar Express trains, or Santa’s Workshops to visit. My family drove around the block an extra time each night to see the lights the neighbors had put up. There was one community in our small town that really went all out. I remember one house with a projector of The Grinch playing right on the house. I thought they must have been the wealthiest people in the world to have such an amazing thing in their backyard.

We really did not have much, but I think back to those holidays and get the warm and fuzzies. Maybe it was always having family around. I had aunts and Great Aunts and Great Uncles and Grandmothers, and cousins around at Christmas. It just always felt like an event.

I try to recreate some of this for my kids, but I worry every year that it’s just not sinking in. I still drive them around to look at lights, and take them to the various trains and villages each year. We try to watch as many holiday shows as we can fit into our busy schedules and drink as much hot cocoa as we can. Sadly, now that they are 10 and 7 year old active little boys, the awe and wonder of twinkling lights just doesn’t seem to impress them. I know that soon they will not be believers. I know that they won’t want to feed the reindeer on Christmas Eve. They will look at me like I am crazy when I ask what Santa brought.

So this year, I find myself a little sad. They are growing up and I am missing those holidays where I did not have to create the magic. I find myself thinking about my Nama. Pretty much all day every day this holiday season. Sometimes, with so much sadness, I find myself on the verge of tears.

It’s not just thinking about how she did something or even things she said. Nama has been gone for five years this holiday season, so I am getting used to her not being here, or so I thought. What I see in my head so vividly right now is her hands I see her left hand with her wedding ring waving around in embarrassed frustration because she can’t remember something. Never will I forget her hands holding that fried chicken she loved so much. I remember the red of her nails and the veins and wrinkles in her hands. I remember them working in the kitchen and I remember them patting my head, and rubbing my back when I needed comfort.

It’s not just her hands that I remember. I remember my Pa’s hands were the largest and softest things I have ever seen. When I was little, I remember touching the pads of his fingers and wondering how they could possibly be so delicate. They were so soft and the skin so thin. I can see his hands reaching across the front seat of the car to pat Nama on the head or arm to reassure her he was there and had her back. I can see him rubbing his cards when we played games. We always joked that he was rubbing the cards to change the numbers. I can see his hands rub his face when one of us girls or Nama said something stupid. It’s like they are right there in front of me.

I finally realized, late on Christmas Day, as I sit alone, staring at the tree, with the presents all removed that this is what I remember about everyone I love. It’s not because I sit around staring at people’s hands. I don’t, I swear. That would be incredibly strange. Really stop, and think about that person you love. There is something so engraved in your brain and your heart that you will never forget it. If you think about it, maybe you remember their hands too. Close your eyes and think about your kid’s hands, your spouse’s hands, or even your mom’s hands.

It does not matter if those hands are rough and cracked or soft and smooth, or if they have an extra finger, or a scar where one used to be. They are so incredibly important to those you love. You know the term “labor of love”? I firmly believe that your hands, and every wrinkle, hangnail, scar, or spot reflects a story of love. A story of a summer in the sun or working outdoors, a failed attempt at opening a can, or a nervous habit built from worry about someone you love. They tell a story that no other part of your body tells. I can’t tell you how or when it started. It is possible that it is the most normal thing in the world and I am just the only person who didn’t realize it, but I always remember the hands.

And right now, as I get ready to take down the tree and holiday décor, I see her hands. I see her taking the hook off of the branch and careful wrapping up those old ornaments from her mom and grandma after the holidays were over. Such love and tenderness to make sure she didn’t break them. I am left to wonder in the glow of the tree, what will my kids remember about me?

Will it be my poorly manicured hands and slightly chubby fingers, or will it be those hands scratching their backs or rubbing their heads to get them to sleep, or holding their little hands in the car, or reaching back to pat their little legs when a funny song comes on? Maybe they will remember those times I snapped that hockey helmet on their heads or tied their skates or shoes. Maybe the visual of my hands on the steering wheel on a long road trip or the way I typed WAY too hard on the keyboard of my laptop.

Whatever it is, I hope that they look back, and know, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that these hands did everything they could to make their little faces light up. Just like my Nama did for me and not just at the holidays.

What do you remember about your loved ones and the magic they created at the holidays and what do you hope your family remembers about you? Leave a comment below and help me with ideas!