Happy Birthday, Hands & Soul.

I’m turning 37 on Sunday.
I love getting older.
I’m proud of my age.
Being able to age is a gift; I cherish it.

Youth never fit me right.
It felt too small, constricting.
But this, ah, this is comfy.
I can move
And breathe
And strut my wrinkles and spots.

I was looking at my hands last night.
They’re finally catching up with my soul.
They look like they’ve lived:

Seen things
Done things
Created things
Ruined things
Fixed things
Saved things
Written things
Hurt
And been hurt
Comforted
Loved
And
Pleasured.

I wonder what they’ve yet to experience?
G-d willing I’ve got years and years to find out.

These hands wear the stories,
The lessons of my life.
This past year adorned them in simple wisdoms:
To be gentle
And
To be patient.

They’ve learned to listen to other hands—
To know when to hold on a little tighter
And when to let go completely.

They’ve matured
I’ve matured
We’ve caught up to one another.

It’s good to be alive.
L’Chaim. ~Rebecca

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