Tag Archives: hands
Poured out, dark brown, milk turns it to a creamy chestnut. Passed around the chattering group, hands circle the mugs which hold its comforting warmth.
She shakes our hands nervously and sits down, deftly smoothing her purple dress. A barrage of questions follows; small, spidery writing taking down the answers. She finally pronounces on the case – more tests and scans, more waiting.
It’s yellowing pages and illustrated cover are as familiar to me as my own hands. The story unfolds as it always does, yet I still read on in suspense. Will it be different this time?
Tanned, chestnut-brown skin. Dyed, jet-black hair, piled messily on top of her head. Bangles and rings adorn her hands and arms. They jangle and click with every answered phone, every press on the keyboard. She laughs with the nurses, comfortable … Continue reading
Pink and frilly, it is perched on top of a laughing father’s head. It’s owner is behind him, carried in her mother’s arms. She giggles and snatches at it with her little baby hands.
Scrubbed clean, boiled and peeled, yet they still bleed. Relentlessly, they mark the many lines that cross my palms. Beautiful and ugly all at once, these lines reveal the life that I have lived.