Worn Hands
Worn, wrinkled, spotted, and knobby hands on top of my equally worn, wrinkled bible praying and praying some more.
Worn, wrinkled, spotted, and knobby hands on top of my equally worn, wrinkled bible praying and praying some more.
It’s a cold and crisp, sunshine day. The garden is holding its breath for the first sign of spring.
Way before the age of personal computers, google search, and Alexa, my parents provided us with information at our fingertips with subscriptions to Newsweek and National Geographic. Our home’s hallway was lined with bookshelves containing three sets of encyclopedias, and at the “T” juncture at the end of the hallway, a mammoth Webster’s Dictionary lay open like a family bible on an altar!
I think that most people have background music on in their homes, in their cars, and even while enjoying the outdoors.
I don’t know about you, but I thoroughly enjoyed playing Hide and Seek as a child.
As I awkwardly lurch out of bed and gingerly shuffle to the kitchen to turn on the kettle, I have one person on my heart. I reach for my favorite jasmine tea dn stop dead in my bedroom slipper tracks.