Look at hands, anyone’s will do.  They all tell a story, who the person is and who they will become are evidenced.

I look at my boyfriend’s hands.  They are strong and firm.  They are stained with the grease from cars he loves to work on. His hands will always work in this labor of love.

I look at my friend’s hands.  They are stained with paint and stuck with glue.  They care and education young minds.  Her hands will always be this way they covered with the work of children.

I look at my mother’s hands. They have seen trouble and joy.  They have raised children and a family.  They have expressed love.

I look at my father’s hands.  They too have seen a lot.  They have traveled and experienced so much. They held his little girl and they will hold her love forever.

I look at my grandmother’s hands.  They have seen depression.  They have raised many children and grandchildren and loved them all the same.  They show the years of work and still they keep revealing love.

I look at my grandfather’s hands.  They too show the hardships of a long life.  They have seen war and hard times but yet they are comforting hands.  They are strong yet gentle.  They are welcoming and loving hands.

I look at my own hands and wonder: what will become of them? What will they do and see? Will they amount to greatness or will they be normal working hands?  Will they care for a child and raise a family? When will they get to know that love?

Hands hold the secrets of our lives.  They all tell a story.  Will you stop and hear that story?  Will your hand share love?