My Own Two Hands

49/365

I'm hard on my hands and this time of year is the worst. They crack, split and wear down. The constant ache and sudden pains of the season are an annual reminder of how important a tool they are.

I feel a constant need to fix things. It stems from my inevitable ability to break things. For better or worse, I fidget. I'll fix your roof to prevent a leak, or I'll shoot a pipe with my nail gun and cause one. I'll bite my nails nervously, or relax and rub her shoulders. I've always wanted to work with my hands, whether pounding nails to punching keys, the fumbling challenge of synchronizing fingers and thumbs, 10 digits, into a choreographed set of movements that hopefully leaves the world a better place.