Hands
Hands – So many lines to follow. It is said that a palm reader can predict your future by searching out the different lines in your hand and where they lead to and where they come from.
As you get older the lines increase. Are those new stories or just the memories of past stories.
Hands – Looking at my hands they must be telling a number of tales. I certainly have a lot more stories evident when the weather gets cold and my hands dry out. There are lines everywhere, all intersecting and branching all over.
Hands – Then there are the marks on the hands and fingers. The scar from when the doctor removed that wart. I never got to put that on my draft card as an identifying, distinguishing feature that is unique to me.
That black dot in the middle of my palm from the pencil that I accidentally jabbed into it when I was a kid. A memory of the piece left behind that remained.
That was so long ago. The hands tell it all
Hands – that when laid down on paper and traced, made the image of a perfect turkey on Thanksgiving. I must have done it, though I don’t remember. Every classroom teacher and art teacher made you do it.
Hands – they are also your welcome to each other. When I was young, an older man, Simon, once told me “you have grip people with a firm handshake. It shows them that you are confident in yourself and a good person”. He taught me by squeezing my hand as hard whenever he shook my hand. If I wasn’t prepared, it hurt. If I was, I would squeeze his hand as hard as I could. I thought to myself,I” know what you’re going to do and I will get there before you can.” I never forgot that. My handshakes are firm; no dead fish from me.
Hands – they show appreciation. I feel much better after performing when I get applause.
As hands go, they are a window into your character. They show who you are, what you think and how you feel.
They’re a handy thing to have. – Pun intended.
