When I last visited with my remaining aunt I turned to take a photo of her hands.
She reached for her husbands hand, whom she dearly loves.
When I went searching for this photo my hands in other shots were almost always pouring tea.
Notice what you notice in the hands, they tell us so many stories.
When I look at my own hands it tells me the stories of my career in patternmaking,
holding a pencil, drawing the lines, and cutting with large scissors.
It tells me of the cups of tea I have poured, the hugs I have given, and the
pets of my cats soft fur.