Her hands

she doesn’t grip the way she did before, it’s a struggle to open the blister pack but she manages. I need a cure, she sighs, she has a picture of him on her side board, what will i do, her hands. A radio blares to life, the neighbor next door is hard of hearing, so the music is up loud, not that again, then the tune begins, one they used to listen to, he passed away a year before and she misses him, your hands he used to say, they are so fine. They played piano so well, now they hardly worked, amen.

In the world of the old, it was lonely and hard to get on, lonely and afraid of the night, when she was with him, well she never had to worry. The tune plays on, the memory comes back, she hears a noise at the door, gets up slowly and pats over to the door, it’s James he says, he is her nephew, he has come to lend her his hands.

Many hands ease the load, many hearts working and the love flows.

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