Sunday, April 15, 2012
Suddenly I’m fascinated by my old-lady hands. I’m like the infant who has only just recently discovered those wiggly things at the end of her arms. We’re similar, that little one and I, in that we both are discovering something new. But we’re doing our discoveries at opposite ends of a spectrum for she’s discovering what her body can do. Me? I’m discovering what my body cannot.
My bulging knuckles push the ends of my fingers into weird little angles. Veins appear like something in a pop-up book. No hand cream has been invented that can smooth my droughty wrinkles.
I’m not ashamed of my hands; I’m not that vain. But I am amazed by them. I know how they got this way: a long life of homemaking, gardening, painting...living! But I’ll be darned if I know when they got this way. Logically, I know it happened gradually, So why didn’t I didn’t notice it before last week?