The Hands of Time

Balisha wrote a post about her hands.  It got me to thinking.

We usually don't take much notice of how our hands looks until one day--you just glance down and there are your Mother's hands!  How did that happen?  The wrinkles.  The loose skin.  

I remember sitting on my grandma's lap and pulling the skin up into a peak, just below her middle knuckle  That skin stayed that way for a long time, it seemed.  I asked her once why it was like that and she said, "Because I am old."

Over the years, I have tried that with my own left hand and was shocked one day when the skin stayed up into that peak for quite a while--until I clenched my hand.  I am old!

I wish I had been more aware of the hand phenomena--I would love to have a yearly picture of my left hand--from about 45 on.  To see the subtle changes, instead of waking up one morning and it seemed my hands had gotten old over night.

I have long fingers--I used to be able to span an octave on the piano, until arthritis set into my thumb and started to draw it into the palm of my hand.

For as "big" as I am, I wear a small ring size.  A size 6.  I have noticed that on my right hand, my rings are now size 7's--on my left ring finger, a size 6 is a bit loose.  Isn't that weird.  It's the arthritis in the joints--which is worse in my right hand.

Balisha wrote of all the things her hands have experienced over the years--I share many of those things.

I used to have a heart-shaped age spot on my hand, but now it has eased into a plain old circle.  When I first noticed it, one day at work, I outlined it with a pen, I thought it was so cool.  Now, I have so many brown age spots that I can't even count--that a gallon of Procelana wouldn't help--that are difficult to even see under all the wrinkles and cross hatch marks.

Look at  your hands and stop and think of all the things they have touched since you were born.  It is amazing.

I like my hands, even though they are no longer pretty.  They are still useful, to a certain degree.  I hope they keep working until the day, they are laid, one on top of the other as I lay in my casket.  I hope the mortician has a nice make-up to put on them so they don't look so old!!

When I view my left hand from a side position, that's when I really see the wrinkles, the cross hatched marks, the knot of arthritis that is growing on the first knuckle of my index finger.
Not a pretty sight.

Then, of course my poor beat up right hand.  The thumb being pulled in by arthritis, as the little finger seems to be pushing outward and then, the poor 3/4 index finger.  I can't grip a pencil or pen, I can't open up a jar, BUT--this right hand still has a strong grip when I shake someone's hand!