Women's arms are made to hold things. They hold dirty laundry and then clean laundry. They hold wiggling dogs. They hold clean dishes to put away. They hold fresh picked peas. They hold a Bible. They hold trash out of the backseat of the car. They hold shoes left outside. They hold everyone's coats on a turned out to be a hot day. They hold half drank bottles of soda.
They hold a heavy bookbag. They hold grocery bags. They hold a Thanksgiving turkey. They hold a crying friend. And sometimes they hold yourself as you rock to the rythmn of an internal sorrow.
But the absolute best thing that a woman's arms can hold is her child. A skinned knee, broken hearted , made the team, leaving home child. Nothing can take the place of the warmth that comes from your child......the wet spot on your shoulder from drool or tears. Nothing can fit in your arms or your heart like your child. And when they are not there, or not into the holding scene.......a vast emptiness overtakes the body and soul. The arms hold an empty space.
So old women hold baby dolls. They fit in your arms like a child. They smell more like rubber than lotion or after shave, and don't get your clothes wet, but at least your arms have something to wrap around. And your mind can wander and remember the holding days.
Gotta go........Going to Walmart to get a Baby doll.