Sunday, August 24, 2008
I loved my grandmother (I called her Nan) dearly and was always intrigued by her hands. She did not have feminine hands, but they were not masculine either. She had hands that showed she had to work hard in her life. My hands have always looked like my grandmother's hands; however, I have not had to work near as hard in my life as she did in hers. When I was coming home from the hardware store today, I looked down at my hands and arms only to notice that I also have her arms. Not very feminine, splotchy, and scarred. A part of me was a little sad that my arms are not more attractive, but a part of me is proud that I have the "McCoy" arms.