Kenny considers his little hands.
He holds up two fingers,
One on each side
And, smiling, calls out,
“Two!”
He presses the tips of those two fingers together
And with his thumbs makes a diamond.
He is fascinated.
He stares.
“Kenny has made a diamond,” I say.
He smiles his
What-a-miracle-I-am
Smile.
I remember my hands at two.
I thought them pretty,
Small and delicate.
Sitting next to my mother in church
I placed my
Small hand
In her
Woman’s hand
With her long white nails
And diamond ring.
My hands were not so pretty
Next to hers.
I could never be as lovely.
Now Kenny touches me with
That gentle child softness.
He loves my long red nails,
And when he sees them
He looks to his own hands,
His own nails,
And smiles his
What-a-miracle-I-am
Smile.
He knows his beauty.
With open hands, I gave him that.
–May, 1992