My hands

What are your hands like?
Someone asked me this question and this is my response…

Well, my hands have done many things in my lifetime. As a child, they covered my face to hide my tears, my fears, and my insecurities. As a young adult, they held my babies and helped me tenderly and lovingly care for them. They have rarely been balled into fists of anger or rage though they do still remember how.

My hands have toiled in the sun and in the earth, tending gardens of food as well as gardens of beauty. They have held other hands in times of sickness and comforted fevered brows. They have held the hands of the elderly as I’ve sat and listened to stories I’veImage heard a hundred times before. They have made mud pies and delighted in doing so. They have tended wounded knees, wiped salty tears, and applauded many for a job well done. They have sought solace in another pair of hands and found comfort doing so.

My hands have written letters of love, letters of cheer and encouragement, and, regrettably even letters of anger. They have waved goodbye to family, hello to strangers, and so long to those who would never return. They have helped me move in a hurry, they have helped me unpack with a vision, and they have smoothed out the bed linens a million times.

My hands have caressed cheeks with the lightest of touches, spanked asses with the firmest of touches, and have been my sight when darkness has surrounded me. They have been beautiful and not so beautiful throughout the many different stages of my life; they have seen me through ragged, bleeding nails when I was a child and they have seen me through strong, beautiful nails as an adult woman. They have caressed a lover’s cheek, teased another’s breast, and sought the wetness that only a woman has.

My hands have seen me through every imaginable suffering a soul should ever have to see and still they are here…strong, calloused, sensitive, and care-worn. They have also been with me through joys and triumphs. They have wiped my tears at funerals and clapped together at weddings.

They ache occasionally now as they’ve grown older but I love them for they are mine and, even now, as they type words on blank screen, they are still sustaining my life by connecting me to you.


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