WHOSE HAND IS THIS ?
My left hand is resting quietly on the book that I’ve just finished reading. I find myself gazing at it as I would at a foreign object. I see the enlarged knuckles, the prominent veins and the sprinkle of brown spots and I wonder, “Whose hand is this? Surely not mine.”
How did this happen? I extend my arms and splay both hands in front of me. I remember my Mother’s arthritically crippled hands and I feel lucky that mine are merely wrinkled and unattractive...but not painful. Suddenly it all seems so trivial and I give a small chuckle.
Where is my sense of perspective? I’ve spent almost a year on this blog, recording the emotions and events of my 74 years on earth. Of course those years have taken a toll but what a wonderful journey it has been…and I almost forgot that. Blogging has brought it all back to me.
There’s something magical about blogging and I think it is the support and affirmation that is freely given by strangers from all over the world. I am continually getting comments like: “Your list of famous acquaintances grows.”, “ You have rubbed shoulders with many note-worthy folks in your life.” and “Wow, you have such rich stories to tell !”
Truth be told I had completely forgotten about my early years and it wasn’t until I re-created those events on my blog that I realized how exciting they actually had been. I did meet a fair amount of “big name” personalities but that was strictly due to the areas where I lived and they were mostly chance meetings. The only exception was Sylvia Plath, my schoolmate for four years.
And now I am in the quiet phase of my life and I realize how lucky I have been. I have had ups and downs in my long life but I have basically been blessed. I have a loving family and a multitude of friends.
Once again I look at my hands and I smile to think how many years it has taken to sculpt them as they are. These are my hands... I have earned them and I marvel that every wrinkle and swollen knuckle is the culmination of those years that I almost forgot.
posted by Ginnie at 5:19 PM
11 Comments:
Ginnie,
They look, to quote Peg Bracken, like hands that have held a baby and driven a car and done their share of work. Good hands.
When you say you can't get the pictures to work, if you are talking about the three YouTubes, put your cursor over the circle in the middle, and then click twice.
When we were young we never thought we'd end up "looking back" and yet, here we are. It seems like a quicker journey than it was and we need to revel in the ride.
I agree with you about our blogging community, it's given me a whole new outlook and wonderful on line friends.
I like the picture of your hand, it has embraced so much.
Signs of age definitely take us aback on some days.
Very poignant words, Ginnie.
I have to agree about blogging...it's almost like a solitary time capsule for us. We can dip into the past, present or future....merely with memory, anticipation and words.
As they say--life must be lived forwards, but it is only understood backwards.
I love strong hands that look like they have seen work. And yours do. I can empathize with your looking at your hands--I do the same thing. Since I garden a fair bit, my hands are not elegant or pretty. But there are strong.
And keep those stories coming as you continue to enjoy blogging.
What a lovely post. I love looking at people's hands; they are very beautiful.
I was looking at my hands a couple of days ago as well. They seemed almost alien to me for some reason. Maybe because I've lost weight and the skin is slack, or maybe because I've not really looked at them in some time, but they didn't seem like they belonged to me.
I've loved your blog all along, Ginnie. You are a gifted story-teller and you have had such an interesting life. Whenever I click on your name in my side-bar and see that you've written a new post, I wonder who I'm going to "meet" now.
Thank you for that.
I had similar thoughts when I hurt my hand last week and posted the photo of it. I remember my mother's hands, and how they aged, and now that I am older, I don't mind how they look at all. (as long as they are usable - that's all that matters!)
This is a beautiful post, Ginnie! I remember my mother's hands very clearly, paricularly the way they soothed my brow. Thanks for the remembering.
Ginnie
Don't forget your hands are bringing us all your wonderful, interesting memories as you rype away on your computer for this blog.
Thanks, Ginnie's hands..
They are beautiful hands.
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