Emerson, you speak the truth. However until you don’t have hands or you can’t use them, you tend to not recognise them for the godsends that they are.
Last weekend my fiancée and I did our advanced diver’s course in the Poor Knights. It was rewarding and amazingly challenging because of these beloved things called drysuits. The suit keeps you warm but my gosh if the rubber wrist seals are too tight, as mine were, you suffer from bruised wrists and inflamed, red, numb hands that just flop around on the ends of your arms being unhelpful.
It gave me a new sense of empathy for my mum who suffers from arthritis of the hands and has trouble opening lids of jars and carrying heavy objects.
The experience also reminded me of a painting that has been on-the-go for many moons now. This painting began its life as a kind of artist self-portrait. The painting is of my hands, the tools of my trade, and it contains all the crevices, blotches and shapes that are unique to me. If you can read palms these hands will even tell you my story. After this weekend’s dive I have renewed enthusiasm to complete this piece!