Hands can tell you so much about a person. The way they look when dishes are being washed, or gently brushing the curls on a child’s head. The way a hand is gently surrounded, or holds.
Eyes communicate first, and our hands do the rest.
Someone told me that my words are learning to take turns, to sit and wait by the sidelines.
Someone once said that my hands did more talking than my eyes did, there were veils in front of my eyes that let nothing out, and everything in.
A few nights ago I decided to spend my evening moving furniture around my house. I wrestled with a bookcase, side tables, a giant futon mattress, and suitcases. It was late, and my flatmates were sleeping, so I was trying to be as quiet as possible. In the end everything was arranged satisfactorily, but imagine tiny little me dragging a bookcase 3 times my size down the hallway. 😛
There are several wonderful friends on pilgrimage right now, which makes me incredibly happy but very busy.