I’ve been slightly obsessed with my hands for the past few weeks. Standing in the desert, in the sun, the wind and the snow, I try to take care of and nourish them, but at the moment they look like washer woman hands from days gone by.
As I look at them, I think about work and how my hands are such an integral part of how I make a living. From sewing to writing to buttoning buttons, they are the most taken for granted and used common denominator in everything I do.
As a child I thought I would be an actress, a linguist, or a teacher of some sort. But, instead of those more cerebral arts, I ended up using my hands. They are strong and capable, even when they are bleeding and dry from overuse, dryness, and lack of care. I am grateful for them and for the interesting jobs I have had which put them to use.

One thought on “Work

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