My Hands

My hands are changing. This may not be earth shattering to others, or in that case to myself, but the change has become noticeable.
I have always had very smooth hands. I have had what I consider large hands, but they have always served me well.
I have made baskets from reed with these hands, I have washed many dishes, babies, dirty hands and faces with these hands. I have created art with these hands, shook hands with important and unimportant people with these hands. I have worn rings on these hands, my wedding ring, my college ring and rings from my parents on these hands. I have dug in the dirt, moved rocks, massaged Jeff's feet nightly with these hands. I am proud of my hands, they are hard working and comfortable hands.
Here is the thing that made me think of my hands and take a long look at them: I had to be fingerprinted for my job once again. As the lady was doing this she asked me to relax and let her do the work in order to get a good print. I did relax but as she came to my left hand she asked if I had worked with my hands a great deal? My response,"I am a teacher, work with my hands, that is a silly question in my book"
Why did she ask this? My left hand finger prints are wearing off. I am right handed so this was interesting to me. I learn a great deal from my hands in any given day.
I use them and abuse them, I never put on lotion, and I should. I have wrinkles in my hands all of a sudden like my mom's, my sisters, my grandmothers. I remember I would love to hold my grandmother Hazel's hands. She always took the time to do her nails, had all the stuff by her chair and her hands were so soft. I am glad my hands are changing, it shows I have lived a good life. I want my kids at school to hold my hands, maybe the only ones they ever hold. My hands are me. I am glad they are softening as I hope I am as I grow older.