I sit here and I look at my hands.
these hands that had held my belly thru pregnancy.
my hands that have held heads while drunk and pucking.
my hands that have held bodies on heroin.
my hands that have cooked meals that nourish those in need.
my hands that make gifts i give those i love most.
my hands that pet my kitties.
my hands that seem so large.
my hands that are so mannish.
my hands that have done so fucking much.
more than my brain can claim in a constructive manner.
my hands that cook dinner for those i love on so many nights over these years.
i hope that i relish the wrinkles
i hope that i relish the accomplishments always my hands seem to accomplish that my brain no matter how bright, creative or brilliant do not produce in physical manifestation.
my hands have a life of their own.
i hope they get to go to heaven.
Monday, April 21, 2014
a good song. the smell of chris' neck. feeling his hand on my leg. moxie asleep in the crook of my arm. hearing chris breathing and the usual and occasional twitch. the feeling of impending summer. sleeping without a blanket. the anticipation of spending the day with the person who means so much to me. the anticipation of being out in the sun. the anticipation of laughing. the anticipation of hearing him tell me he loves me. thinking about making enchiladas with my left over roast chicken. realizing that i almost never get to wake this slowly and recognizing the happiness in my heart and life. realization that i have been choosing happiness over distress lately. nice to see how i am working towards that goal and making progress.
ok. now to wake chris up and stop anticipating.