Hands
Earned their keep
These hands of mine
Time in a Mug So far this morning I have poured boiling water Into my mug’s gaping mouth Rather than the French Press Where freshly ground coffee Awaited I have set the timer On the microwave Rather than actually Running the thing I have placed Honey into the frig Rather than back On it’s shelf…
“Reading things that are relevant to the facts of your life is of limited value. The facts are, after all only the facts, and the yearning passionate part of you will not be met there.” — Jeanette Winterson, “Why Be Happy When You Could Be Normal?” Last week, some friends and I went to see the…
For the last month or so, I’ve been caught up with questions about my life. Maybe this comes from recent health issues or thoughts about retirement, but the flood of questions goes something like this: Where have I been putting my energy? Does that really reflect what I value or enjoy? What parts of my…
So many memories put away. Need to go through them. No, not today. My Mom’s china, My son’s artwork and toys, Just start sorting through it, One of life’s little joys. Pieces that remind me where I’ve been. Memories of things I thought I’d never go through again. I take another look At the piles…
I took Friday off last week with the intention that I was going to do some writing, work on my blog, edit a bunch of photos I haven’t had time to deal with, and read some other people’s blogs. Did I actually do any of those things? Of course not. I arrived at the barn…
I am reading The Gift of Years: Growing Older Gracefully by Joan Chittister, a book about “becoming” after retirement. Much of what I’ve read so far is about the freedom that comes from being outside the corporate world, where image matters so much. But I’m still in that world…
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Fantastic! These hands have earned their keep? I love that! And your photographs are stunning – as are your hands! I often think that way about my body in general – you know, that it’s earned its keep – but specifically hands? What a lovely meditation. I loved, loved, loved this and will look at my age spotted, somewhat scarred, crepe paper textured skin hands more lovingly and appreciatively after reading this.
Your hands, poem, and photos, are beautiful. (but I do know the feeling of looking at my own hands and thinking “who’s are these?”)
Lynn