Tuesday, July 03, 2007


He has big hands.

Hands that are not exactly worked over, but not soft either. They are hands that look good where ever they are placed. Small nails, from being chewed off. A nervous habit that will never be broken.

The third finger on the left hand longs for the decoration that was once at home there. He would look good with a band there. He did look good with a band there.

His hands dwarf mine. If I were to put mine against his, it would look like an adult and a child having that little "whose hand is bigger?" contest that every child and every adult has had at some point in time. He could cover my hand with his, easily. He has. Not often, but he has.

His touch is mostly light. Only when he is drunk does he ever get overtly frisky. Mostly he uses a light touch. Like a feather on a cheek. Traces the lines of the edge of body parts, ever so slightly. As if it will imprint in his memory forever, the feel of the skin underneath that finger tip.

When he holds a baby in his large hands, the juxtaposition is so evident, that is both amazing and humorous. You can't imagine that he was ever that small. It seems impossible. And yet, seeing this, you see how safe his hands look. Cradling the wee young babe. Sushing her. Patting her back. Settling her. It makes your heart melt, because it is such a sweet, if overused sight. Big strong man, little tiny baby.

His hands are one of the many thing that I love about him.

They make me feel safe, when they are near me. In his hands, I feel I can trust him to not hurt me. I know he will look after my child as he does his own, and he will help Rob find a safe place to fall besides my arms.

In his hands I feel safe, and giddy, and warm and tingly.

In his hands I feel wanted, even if it is only in passing. Or not acknowledged on the level I want.

It is his hands that I will miss when he finds someone else to touch.

It is that spark that flies between us, when his hand brushes against mine, that I will mourn when he finds someone else.

And I know he will.

When that happens, I will look to Rob's hands to guide me through the emotions that will surface, like a dolphin in search of friends.

It will be Rob's hands that will touch me, and hold me, and make me feel loved and wanted.

His hands will remind me that I am very much loved.

Very much needed.

Very much wanted.

It is Rob's hands, perfect nails, strong, unchewed, that will fling a spark between the two of us, that will make me forget that I have lost something dear.

It is Rob's hands that will be there for me, as they have always been.

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