Graf 1: Hands

My hands folded together resting on my lap, nails freshly painted, shimmering nude if I recall correctly. Skin runs smooth over the tops except for a scar running from just above the ring finger towards my thumb the results of a stabbing wound. If you were to look at my hands today they would have that same scar on the top of my hand as well as a few more that have been added throughout the last couple of years. The skin is increasingly wrinkled around my knuckles. Nails displaying chipped nail polish painted on weeks ago. A large blister protrudes from my thumb where the skin was once smooth. The palms of my hands are calloused and aged far beyond my years. But, I am proud of these changes in my hands, for they represent one who has worked hard building a business with family. They tell a story of someone who has grasped a shovel and dug in, raked sand, and thrown cables. My hands use to tell a story of inexperience with life and now they are an extension of the changed individual that I have become, stronger, wiser, more determined individual.