2 things that I take for granted on a daily basis. My hands. But more often than not I find myself looking down and shocked that they look like my Grandmothers hands. My nails, my skin and now the wrinkles on that skin. I dated a boy once upon a time, long loooong ago who loved to hold my hand simply because he thought my hands were beautiful and soft to the touch. I was vain about those hands. I made sure that I learned to manicure my own cuticles and nails at a young age. And I have always loved polish. Although I have to put it in writing that my Father was a firm believer that red nail polish was of the Devil. Really. Part of the Mormon Revivalist in him I suppose. And he passed it on to me, I have hated red polish on my girls. But let me get back to why I am grateful for these hands of mine.
Once I learned how to put them to good use they knew no limits. I have used them to work and play. Love and fight. Give and receive. Comfort and care. I have loved my babies with these hands, and spanked their butts also. These hands have earned an income for my family and learned to use resources so I can stay home with my family. They can plant a garden and build up fences. They can prune roses and pull weeds. I can cook and do dishes (but the dish part is for my daughters hands). These are talented hands and they are mine.
2 years ago