What My Hands Want

There seem to be a zillion things that I need to do, at the house and at the shop. Cleaning, of course. Sorting. Trashing. Filing. Giving away.

I start one thing, work on it for a few minutes and stop. I start something else, work on it for a few minutes and stop. I’ve repeated this starting and stopping before I finish something for months. There is plenty for my hands to do. Plenty of necessary things. Plenty of things that need to be dealt with. Plenty of work to keep my hands from being idle.

Occasionally, I finish something because a customer needs it.

I have finally realized that my hands aren’t wanting to work. They are wanting Greg. Wanting to massage tension out of his shoulders and neck. Wanting to feel the texture of his hair and beard. Wanting to feel the warmth of his hands. 

Wanting something neither they nor I will ever have again.