The Hands of Time

I love hands.

I'm not sure why but hands are one of the first things I notice about a person. And not in a negative way--not at all.

Hands come in so many varieties: model hands, well-manicured hands, working hands, wrinkled hands, chubby hands of toddlers. I find them all fascinating.

When Roy and I started dating, I immediately noticed his hands. Honestly, he has the biggest hands I've ever seen in my life. They are wide and strong and well-formed. It's difficult to find gloves that fit him because they are just so big. And yet, his hands are steady and capable of so many mechanical things. It's always amazed me.

And then there are my hands. I definitely have my Grandpa Elton's hands--my mom's dad. He had the longest, thinnest hands with long fingers--just like mine. I've never really liked my hands as my fingers are knobby and they just aren't very pretty. People often ask, "Do you play the piano? You have such long fingers!" when they look at my hands.

Lately I've noticed that my hands are beginning to look old. It's so weird watching these things happen to my body as age sets in; and yet on the inside I feel exactly as I did as a teenager or young adult. Nothing, really, has changed that much other than the fact I can't go around doing cartwheels or handstands like I used to. I think I would kill myself if I tried.

So when I stop and look at my hands? They always catch me by surprise. Where did those wrinkles come from? Is that the beginning of an age spot?

They still look the same as they did when I was 21. I still have the freckle on the bottom of my middle finger. Yet they are different somehow. They look like the hands of a woman in her mid-40's rather than the hands of a young person.

It's baffles me a bit how age sets in and changes everything. Jace often reminds me that I'm old. Yet? I don't really feel that old. I feel like I have so many things to experience in life that I've barely gotten started. I feel like I still have so much ahead of me.

But my hands are a constant reminder that life is ever-changing. I am temporary--part of the ebb and flow that is here for awhile and then...gone. Yet life continues: the sun will still rise and set each day. Another one's hands will go from being chubby and tiny to sturdy and strong to wrinkled and old.

The cycle will continue.

So my hands? They are a reminder to make each day count. Life is such a gift and it is too short to waste on futile living, hurt feelings, and regrets. We need to spend our time making memories that count, helping others and bettering our little piece of the world one moment at a time.