I have always believed that a person's hands tell their story - both their present story, and the story of the journey they have been on. I look at my hands and what I see immediately are the hands of my mother and my grandmother. I love that. If you look closer you will see the story of my present: scratches and wounds from landscaping for a week, wrecked cuticles in desperate need of a manicure after digging in the garden, a lingering bruise from where last week's IV was placed (and the reason I converted to B&W), fingers that currently struggle to bend enough to hold a pen (to be fixed on the 15th) and a woman who isn't afraid of hard work. This is {me} in the now.
