Every time I shake someone's hand, I wonder,
"What is their story?
.
I glance down at my own hand lately and it speaks volumes about who I am and where I've been.
Well, there's the ring,
And then there's the nasty burn on my thumb from spilling boiled water (a glimpse into my clumsiness),
the dry rough skin from handling box after box from our move,
the hard calluses from pull-ups at the gym,
the deep paper cut under my finger nail (how can paper get in there?)
My grandmother's wrinkles in my palm,
And,
As I continue to stare at them,
I can see the way they take shape when I touch my kids' faces,
how a little hand fits so perfectly in there,
how I washed my hands ten minutes ago
And
how it didn't wash away any of this....
