May 15th, 2006



My hands are changing. They're hardening, darkening and the ridges are roughing, the skin thickening where I've damaged the skin on shovels, knitting needles, and yarn. The nails aren't always coming entirely clean after digging in the compost and dirt of the garden, and one is split where I hit a rock.

I'm watching my hands in fascination as they take on their new identities. Becoming something different and noteworthy when I grasp the hand of a stranger in greeting. I can feel how soft most hands are, now, how they contrast with mine.

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