My hands are quite small.
They have been through a lot in their 35 years.
Pleasure and pain. Work.
They’ve learned musical instruments.
They’ve pretty much perfected the art of chalkboard writing.
They’ve sliced bananas and watermelons galore.
They’ve boasted ridiculous acrylic nails; antique diamonds; tender callouses from part-time jobs.
They’ve slapped the steering wheel, both in fury and fits of percussive appreciation.
These hands: they search for warmth, for meaning, for the arts.
These hands: they squeeze together in strength, and release in a satisfaction only the weary can understand.
These hands: they are magically mine.
My hands: I love you.
. . .
SnapDragon is a mother, writer, reader, and piece of lint on the laundry basket of life.
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