Hands...

I went to Clyde on Tuesday, intending to write a story on the Piece Corps. They are a group of quilters that get together once a month to share ideas, sew, and eat dessert. I know! My idea of a good time.

Instead, I spent most of the time thinking about hands. I know that's insane, but when you see the pictures you'll understand. I thought about my mother's hands, how her wedding band is a flat gold band, that is beautiful, and doesn't catch on everything as she works.

This of course led me to think of my grandmother's hands, and how she had a freckle on her palm, just like I do. I wonder what stories your hands tell, if my grandkids will ever notice how my wedding band doesn't get caught in everything, or how my fingernails are always broken from taking jeans out of the washer.

My sister also made a block for the quilt the group was working on. The pattern of the quilt involves red-work and the maker of the block is supposed to hide their intials within the block...see if you can find hers! I thought of how I miss her more and more as I get older. She lives so far away, yet it seems like I am thinking of her all the time - when I see perfect teacher writing, or when I eat something I know she has the recipe for, or when I teach swimming lessons and realize that I am the one that's the "old lady."