The Beauty and Stories of Hands

Let us Pray - Art showing hands
Let us Pray - Art showing hands

Don’t you wonder what special things those hands will do someday? They might play the piano or grab a snowboard in an Olympic competition.

Anne Mehrling –

I received that comment on my post about my sleeping granddaughter after I wrote about her sweet little hands. I loved where it took my brain. The world is wide open for the little one, and for each of us as well.

Hands are such interesting things we often take for granted. As Aunt Anne’s comment opened my mind to all my granddaughter’s options, I realized that I’ve always been a bit fascinated with hands. The “Let us Pray” image I used as a featured image on this post has adorned the walls of our various abodes for the past almost-28 years.

And it makes me smile to recall that back in the day, my friend Kelley playfully moved her hands and fingers in front of my infant children’s faces. They were enthralled.

A favorite memory of mine was when CJ was little and discovered his thumb. There he was in his infant car seat with his arm outstretched as far as it would go. He clenched his tiny fingers into a fist then started drawing his thumb towards his face.

After about five minutes, he was getting really close to getting his thumb in his mouth (his eyes were crossing since his hand was so close), and he made a quick movement to get that thumb to his mouth.

And missed.

As I sat there giggling, he started way back at the beginning of that action, stretching his arm out as far as it would go. Five minutes later he achieved his goal.

His tenacity was impressive. And it’s a very sweet memory for me.

When CJ was born, we lived in Centerville — a tiny town in western New York (population is now at a bit over 800, which is a 7.9% increase since 2000, and we were there in the early 1990’s) where you were a newbie until your family was there for a few decades 🙂 It was one of my favorite places to live. We had fascinating neighbors, filled with the wisdom of past generations.

One woman commented that I should always get images of my children’s hands in photos if I was documenting their growth. While they stop getting taller at some point, their hands will still reflect age and growth. How right she was. And it’s a beautiful thing.

Sometimes I watch detective shows (any Bones fans out there?), and the observations stemming from features like hands are intriguing to me. I look at my own and see my life reflected. Short nails hint at a life at some sort of keyboard, as well as the lines that deepen horizontally over the top of my wrist. They are deeper on my left hand, where I wear my watch. Perhaps not as much circulation as my right hand?

I’ve also always loved Chris’ hands — blistered, strong, and perfectly molding to mine.

Hands definitely tell tales. Chris almost lost a finger to a lawnmower back in the Centerville days. He went to the only store in town to get bandages. As his blood gushed, the store owner directed Chris to the back of the line. As he waited his turn, the people in front of him started regaling him with stories of their missing digits. Oh yeah. We were in farm country. Injuries like this were not uncommon with all the machinery around. Chris works a lot with machinery, so this was a factor in our getting tattooed wedding bands so nothing would catch.

The stories hands tell are not always pretty. My veins are getting more prominent, showing my aging process as the woman in Centerville predicted. Fingers twist as arthritis sets in. Scars appear. But those are all parts of the story, too.

I guess it’s just the hand we’re dealt .

Sorry. Couldn’t resist.

I’ve loved watching my children’s hands as they have grown. Now one pair of hands is a master at computer stuff, another at creating reptilian habitats, and the other can really wield a set of knives in the kitchen. I look forward to seeing the special things Avalon’s hands will do someday as well.

Inspiration From Other WordPress Writers

A couple of nights ago I had the coolest dream. It awoke the writer within me in its lucidity. It was a fantasy story in which we had a superhero and friends overcoming villains as they literally flew through a world that was devoid of color. Amazingly, when one connected hands with the superhero, color seeped into the scene.

Of course, there is the moment upon wake-up where one analyzes where dream thoughts came from. I realized that I not only dream in color, but I also have the capability of dreaming in monochrome.

And my dream came from a book I had just read — written by my colleague, Carla, (it’s not published yet, but when it is, it will be a treat for all). And it was also from a series of posts I read on WordPress. They were written by Gun Roswell. An example of one is:

Travel in monochrome 2 — Rantings Of A Third Kind

“See the world in black and white, and a few greys too!” Gun Roswell Travel in monochrome When travelling around the world World, this nice round blue orb you were on to hurled Hurled, like a whirl wind out of the blue Blue, as is the colour of the sky’s hue Hue, derived from the […]

Travel in monochrome 2 — Rantings Of A Third Kind

I encourage you to read more from Love the regular postings with great images and awesome poetry.

As I’ve been pulled back into thoughts and explorations of story line that result from that dream, I’m once again amazed and inspired by all the WordPress community brings. Thanks Carla, Gun Roswell, and all the others that inspire. You make life so much richer.

Time Alone – Reflections

What would you do if you had a few hours alone? I don’t mean in a quiet it room. I mean alone, alone, alone. Nobody in the house, no plans, no noise.

Even though I’m empty nested, life takes on its own vibes, and I realize now, in the silence of my living room, that the last couple of hours I’ve had while Chris and a friend are golfing are extremely rare.

As the men left I mentioned that I had plenty of things to do to keep myself entertained. Learn some Python, blog, watch a Jane Goodal documentary, etc. And the time has flown. I even got some bonus things in – I worked on editing a book for a friend and watched a few more clips in my wine course and planned some logistics for our next trip 🙂

The feeling flashes me back to the day when, after years with young children, my youngest went to preschool for a couple of hours several times a week. It was the first time in YEARS that I had time to myself. So much to do. I literally found myself spinning. Each chocolate? Take a bath uninterrupted? Exercise? Clean without little hands “helping” me?

That day, I didn’t know where to start. And ended up doing nothing that day. Except spin.

It’s quiet moments like this when I am reminded of how full my life is. And I love that. It’s also cool to take a step back and rediscover interests I can enjoy pursuing in my own time, in my own way, with no time constraints.

I learned something that preschool day. Always keep a list of special things you can do when that rare moment of solitary time hits. Then you will be ready to immerse and enjoy.


Waves at the beach.

Reoccurring dreams to be specific. Do you have them? If so, please share in the blog comments. I have a dream that has trailed me through life, and I absolutely love it. But I can’t make it happen. It comes when it wants.

My dream always involves stormy seas. Waves. Major waves. Sometimes I body surf them, sometimes I struggle to get to them, and sometimes they pull me under.

But they never scare me. They envelop me. Even when I’m under, I can breathe under the water, and I embrace the magic of them swirling around me.

Since I love the dream, I’ve tried to track when the dream occurs. Over time I have narrowed it down. The dream comes when major changes occur in my life. How beautiful is that? It’s not always bad changes, either. But it’s always change.

I’m in an unknown, dealing with something I can’t control, yet I’m always able to cope with it. And if I give in and let go, I get taken on a most beauteous ride.