Taken By The Color

by Kelly Mastin

There on the homework so mundane,

My fingers pointing at the words we read,

I stop, surprised by what I see, sitting there in front of me.

There atop my hand, sits his.

Connected — mother and son are we.

But once again I am reminded. Once again I am surprised.

Can we be so different? My son so different from me?

My hand is pasty pale, but his is dark and brown.

Mine shines bright white, nearly pink,

While his is warm and brown.

How did I forget we were different? How could I be surprised?

I stare at our hands: So different. So diverse. So beautiful. So right.

And my heart interprets: It’s unity and sameness. It’s family and love.

Our hands tell our story — of adoption, redemption, and love.

I capture a mental snapshot of our hands there together.

Light and dark, white and brown –contrasting yet entwined.

Then, poof!  The flash of the bulb causes the clock to tick again.

And we’re back to doing homework, back to the mundane.

Back to being just my son and me.