My online journal sharing interests in photography, nature, coffee life, journaling, fountain pens, bicycling, spirituality and asking deep questions.
I walked past this young man as he sat inside the doorway smoking his cigarette. I turned around, went back and started a conversation, asking if I could take an image of his hands. Those hands with tattoos and the cigarette did not need a face of body to add to the story. They have their own story.
I remember the first time I really noticed my dad’s hands. I’m not sure if he was holding me or if I was just sitting beside him. Their size was impressive as I was young at the time. I remember touching them and noticed how the wrinkles of age had begun to appear. They had worked hard for many years and they still do. My father learned from experience how to use his hands. He used them to work for a paycheck that provided shelter and food for his family. He used them to repair cars, repair and also build a house, make a toy gun from a piece of wood, plant and harvest a garden. He also used them to discipline his children. I remember the last time I felt the well deserved impact of his hands on my posterior. Later in life he would surprise me by using them to create wood carvings like the one you see above.
A few years back I looked down and realized my hands were starting to look like his. I’m proud of that. My hands are not identical to his nor do they not have the same strength, talents or gifts as his but they have his imprint on them. Today is my dad’s 80th birthday. He still walks everyday and stays in very good physical condition. He’s also pretty sharp between the ears, too! I love you, dad, because of your strengths and your weaknesses and because you have shared your hands with me.
Happy Birthday Dad!
While on a bus ride there was a couple sitting across from us who were holding hands. I really liked how they were holding hands or should I say touching. There was no tight grip nor were their hands intertwined but had a relaxed and comfortable touch. Their touch is what made it special. I felt they were sharing intimate feelings and words with each other.