Just don't call me Late to Dinner

I'm so nearsighted that when I take off my glasses I can't see anything.
I can't make out the facial features of those around me, can't see pictures on the wall.

The whole world is out of focus and frankly, it I feel adrift and a bit lost. 

I can see my hands if I hold them very close to my face, though.

When my glasses are off, I stare at my hands. It's strangely comforting.

The other evening I had taken off my glasses while sitting at the table talking with my daughter.

My daughter brought this weird hand staring thing to my attention, like a 13 year old daughter would.

Anyway, 
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thick knuckled

callused

from scrubbing

and sweeping

and lifting

and digging

have

bathed babies,

wiped bottoms,

wiped noses,

smoothed the damp hair of a fevered son and daughter,

have

reached down into

dark places

dirty toilets

clogged drains

are scarred

and marked

wedding ring slipped on my finger

when I was a different person

with different hands

holds my left ring finger like a belt cinched too tight.

Clenched to fists,

have pounded tables,

punched at doors,

Cupped,

have held water

have caressed the beloved curve of a beloved face

Fingers outstretched

reach toward

another hand

a small hand

a cool hand

to hold

to twine fingers

for a moment

before pulling away