Hands are a living narrative written by a lifetime of use. There is a story recorded in every weathered crease, a lament in every callous  and an anecdote in every scar. Our hands have toiled and cared for others. They’ve admonished and loved. They’ve conveyed exasperation, underscored points of debate, wiped away tears, and applauded revelry. They’ve held on and they’ve let go. Continue reading “The Meaning of Hands” →