For the Love of Family

My great Aunts hands. I spent so many years in her house growing up there, deep in the North of Thailand, and near the mountains. The house is made of solid wood, a fortress of my childhood where I played and ate lunch after school and took pictures and laughed. This will likely be the last time I see her, because at 82 she has awful and painful arthritis, and the pain of her back is unbearable for her. How do I get time to slow down? Or move backward? How can I smooth my hands on the moving threads of life and keep it still? Instead, all I can do is tell her in her language, the language of my life, in Thai: Thank you, Thank you, Thank you for everything. And I love you.