Sunday, June 28, 2009

Rough Hands

My hands are rough. There was a time they were soft and smooth, but not any longer. At one time in my life, people told me that I could be a hand model. But not any longer... At one time, my hands were almost graceful, beautiful. But not any longer...

My hands are rough. I use them daily, in ways most people don't. I train, I lift weights, I hold heavy objects. The knurling of the Olympic bars has caused calluses to form, tear, and reform. The work I do on the pull up bar has caused calluses to form, tear, and reform. I sand the calluses down, but they still tear and reform. And they hurt sometimes. And they bleed sometimes. But I continue... Because I need the calluses to be strong -- I need my hands to be strong.

My hands are rough. I train hard and my hands pay the price. My hands are strong, they do what I ask them to do -- what most people can't do. My hands are constantly remodeling, losing calluses and forming new ones -- their own artistic performance, one blister, one tear, one callus at a time. My hands are beautiful.

1 comment:

Cindy said...

I love the sentiment. Calluses represent strength; and perhaps heart.