My Hands Allowed Me

by Emily M. Woodcock

According to the internet, hands are “prehensile, multi-fingered appendage located at the end of the forearm or forelimb of primates such as humans, chimpanzees, monkeys, and lemurs.”
Hands are a pieces of the whole puzzle of the body. Hands have has significance throughout history from medieval times to current day. If you were caught robbing centuries ago, your fingers or even your hand would be cut off. Not too long ago as humans, we realized that hands are connections to the world including germs.
My hands were used as my major source of touch. I do not like it when other body parts are touching certain things. My hands allowed me to touch and to feel safe. My hands allowed me to stay grounded when I felt anxiety attacking me.
When the reminders for hand washing first became popular earlier this year, I started to notice my hands differently than before. I started to notice where my hands were worn….had developed blisters or cracks. I know that I have always had those spots but I never had to face my hands to be a sign of the truth.
The truth is…my life has cracks, bumps, blisters. My life hasn’t been easy…no ones has! But I have noticed and appreciated that just like my hands my life is resistant and will fix if I give it time. This crisis has been awful but with time… will go back in place. 
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