‘My Hands Are Tools’

My hands stroked the backs of many lovers until I found them being gently held by the woman I love. My hands cared for our newborn children, and they soothed my mother as we spent her last day on earth together. I’m grateful that my hands are tools to caress and nurture the people I love, and I try to remember that I, too, deserve to be held and supported. Although my hands sometimes falter, they continue to connect me to others and to myself, guiding me as I age. — Robin Rosenbluth