My Hands

Have you ever really looked at your hands? They sure tell a story.
I loved my thumbs when I grew up. I played the piano and managed to play the saxophone with my hands. I held a yucky worm and licked the ice cream off my finger tips. I've waved good bye before leaving my family for a year and held a friend close with my hands. My hands have held fast to the steep rock wall and have allowed me to slide down the grassy hill with safety. My trembling hands held my new born child. They have wiped a tear off a child's face. My hands have done so much that represent me.

My hands are aging. They have some brown spots; they are getting wrinkled and worn. I love my hands. I need my hands. What would I do without them?

I need other people's hands too. A caress on the cheek, a pat on the back, a hand shake, a touch on the shoulder goes a long way. A wave from a neighbour or the girl who lives down the road is always sweet. Hands help each other. Hands express who we are. Have you really looked at your hands?

It is very touching, then, to receive a hand quilt made by loving hands from the people who care about me. Thank you Andrea and Matthew! You have touched me in more ways than you know.