The hand that gives is blessed

Tonight I was looking at my right hand. It looked wonderfully alive. I could flex all of my fingers and then each finger individually. And then.

I thought a hand that can love, a hand that can give, a hand that can pick up garbage, a hand that can work. I was, for a few moments, so happy to have a hand like that. But then I thought of the hands of my uncle, that were folded on his lap.

They were icy cold and by now must be nothing more than dust. I was thinking about the millions and billions of hands that have been and are no more. My hands sooner or later will belong to this category, but while they are still alive, I will use them to give.

To give something, to write something, that can help others, that can inspire others....