Surrogate Hands
She grew paler by the second. This
woman was lost for years, but she was now found. Would we lose her again? I
prayed that we wouldn't, not my beloved aunt, my surrogate mother.
With my hand, I pushed back the hair in her face. She's an image of pure, pallid
beauty.
It was like her life was a petal upon the edge of a fingertip, which could be
easily blown away. I held onto her, in case she fell from the tips of those
fingers. I moved too quickly and she fell. I let go of another motherly hand.