hands

Have you ever noticed just how much you can tell about a person from their hands?

This thought came to me because as of right now, my hands smell like horses - dirt is caked under my nails from scratching the coarse white and yellow hairs just above Uncy's tail. It's his favorite spot, he backs slowly up to me with his head cocked to side so he can make sure I understand EXACTLY what he's asking for...

My nails are rarely groomed, all a different shape with haywire cuticles. If I paint them, I let the paint chip away at its own pace rather than using fingernail polish remover. I have calluses, which I am proud of - I earned them, but I don't have as many as I use to, so the few that are left are oddly important to me.

My daddy's hands...o my daddy's hands. His hands are rough and weathered from years of being horse back, years of working with his hands. Cuts and scratches are always evident - after all, he is a silversmith. Now of days, there is a hint of tar from hours working on highways. Calluses, deep cracks and creases. Bear paws - full of so many talents, full of love, full of stories, full of character.

My great grandmother's hands - twisted and knarled from the wrath of arthritis. Years of sewing, farming, knitting, gardening, cooking are hidden in those hands. Hands that held those of my Grandaddy's; hands that held my sweet Pa as a child. Those hands, those swolen, hurting hands - they speak volumes. 97 years on this earth, my Great Grandmother's hands...

So much can be told from someone's hands...from their marital status, to their work ethic, from their age to their passions. It's amazing what can be seen and heard by simply looking at someone's hands and we all know a person's handshake is a telling tale of character, strength and respect.

~peace & love~

WHIT