She looked down and noticed her hands looked older. There were a few lines and spots. She wondered when they had changed. She was sure they were smoother the other day when she held her daughter’s hand. Where had the time gone from when he first held her hand? Her hand had looked small and quickly sought his comfort. How often had she not even noticed as they worked every day in all sorts of conditions? Hot soapy water cleaning dishes. Folding warm fluffy clothes. Rooting through fresh earth in the garden. Lifting a child and holding him tight. Wiping tears. Rubbing her eyes to view a new morning. Preparing food every day. Holding a pen and writing. Clapping to appreciate a good show. She was told she used her hands too much when she talked. Garish gestures to try to help her poor choices of words? She was suddenly appreciatve for all the places her hands had helped her go. She wondered if they moved a certain way, maybe they would help her try new sensations, places, tales.
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