Hands

My favorite hands are my piano hands.

My piano hands have short stubby nails.
and short stubby thumbs.

but they have long fingers and velocity. 

and even though they can only reach a 9th I love and accept them, because they are me.
And they are the facilitator, the catalyst, the enabler, the architect of the symphonies in my head.

But they have one blatant, ragingly obvious fault, a bad habit they can't seem to overcome. They can never play the symphonies I dream.

I dream in music, usually. Superlative music. But as soon as I wake up, its gone.

And as I am writing this, I am holding back my tears, because after 365 dreams of fantastic, inspiring music its frustrating to sit at the piano, with my piano hands...

And just sit.




I have other hands, too. And I won't forget about them.

There are the hands that held a violin for the first time in 4 years today, and put their fingers in exactly the right spots, and felt that sensation that is there before the calluses come.

There are the hands that do yoga
The hands that untie knots
The hands that love to feel everything around them


And soak it all in through the fingertips.