Hands

When I look at my hands, my first thoughts are about my palms. I went to a palm reader when I was living in Washington, D.C., and she told me that I would have three children, a successful career, and live to a very old age. I believe that my hands represent some of the hopes and dreams that I have for my future.

I also see scars on my wrist from a bad tumble I took while running once in college. My middle fingers both bear permanently swollen knuckles from high school basketball injuries. The index finger on my right hand has a paper cut from an envelope I opened too fast. So I guess my hands also represent some of my mistakes and accidents from the past.

My nails are manicured right now, colored in a pretty purple that's just perfect for the fall. I don't usually get my nails done, but I decided to splurge for a friend's wedding last weekend. It's the first time that I've pampered myself in months; I've been pretty broke since I moved up to Buffalo this summer.

My hands offer a direct connection to the world around me. They have painted a playhouse for the local Boys and Girls Club, held my sister's baby, cuddled my pet bunny, cooked meals, taken pictures while traveling abroad, and written in a journal. My hands help me express myself and take care of the people that I care about.