Hands. Two. Fingers. Ten. We often take for granted the use of our hands. They can do so much. Think about it.
We have so many idioms related to hands. Here are a few: hands-on, handmade, a helping hand, be on hand, by hand, give a hand, in good hands, know like the back of your hand, lend a hand, life is in hands, experience something first-hand, try your hand at.
I believe our hands tell stories. They go through a lot . . . they hold and comfort and create. Hands hold memories. A mother’s touch offers love. Even now as an adult, I still crave placing my head in my mom’s lap as her hands gently caress my forehead to my hair, lulling me into a temporary reprieve from the pain, fears, frustrations, uncertainties of life.
Hands are fascinating. I was working with a baker-trainee one-on-one while she was in production. She was laying cut bread on sheet pans. I don’t know what it was but I kept watching the way her hands moved.
The bright sunlight from a lone window cast a glow, highlighting her hands even more. I had to capture it but the picture doesn’t do it justice. I was fascinated. She has a story to tell and I hope she feels comfortable enough to share it as we spend this brief journey together.
Hands denote a person who engages in manual labor. I suppose that could be why bakers’ hands are fascinating. They knead to create. Hands tell stories and I can’t wait to hear them from my students as we intersect on this brief journey before our paths divert once again.