I love my hands.
I have always thought that I had rather graceful, delicate-looking hands. They are neither too big, nor too small. And I have beautiful nails at the ends of my fingers. The tips of the nails are so white, I hardly need do more than put a coat of clear polish on them to give the effect of a French manicure.
And yet these lovely hands are also strong, resilient, flexible.
These hands take care of myself and those I love. They held my babies. And now the hug and caress and tickle my little boys. These hands cook and type and draw and crochet and play the piano. They hold the steering wheel of the car. They do a thousand things every day – so many seemingly mundane things, that I can’t even think of more!
I am grateful for these beautiful, strong hands.