graf#1

My hands tell the story of my life, beaten from daily use and abuse in a machine shop. I have no feeling in the tip of my left index finger thanks to an extra sharp tool that I grabbed the wrong way on the wrong day. It’s kind of like having one of those little marshmallows stuck to your third knuckle and no matter what you do, you can never get it to do exactly what you want it to. Calluses on my hands glitter in light because of all the metal chips and splinters stuck in them, I rarely notice them. Recently they have been taking more abuse than normal, and it shows, I notice all the little sore spots from my house remodeling. One thing that really sticks out is my wedding band; mine doesn’t shine like my wife’s does. Mine is dull and dented, worn flat around the edges, and missing a small chunk from an impact wrench with a loose screw. I almost thought I would lose my finger when that happened, but I didn’t, just another gash that has now turned into a faded white scar. Now it’s back to work on the house for me, I’ll be clapping my hands when I’m done with that.