You may may not be familiar with the terms "wrinkle" and "squeeze." Heard it somewhere a long time ago and was lead to believe it distinguished between a young person, "squeeze" and an old one, "wrinkle. As the title suggests, this story is about the latter.
When I was a "squeeze," I often noticed and wondered about the appearance of a person's hands. There's a lot more variety than a person might suspect. Smooth, rough, callused, manicured, scarred...and the list goes on right?A couple of nights ago, I was reading Nelson Demille's latest novel and went into scan mode during a somewhat boring section when I noticed the back of my own hand. Yup. My own. I recalled I had seen the same sort of hands on others before...wondering about the life of the person that possessed them...whether it had been a long and hopefully a good one. Now, reflecting on my own I would say "yes," mine has been long and good. Mostly thanks to the people who have influenced me through example and support. Loved ones past and present. If you are one and you are reading this...Thank You for nurturing the life that is reflected in a wrinkle's hand.
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