Keep your grandparents close. I wish I still had mine.
These old hands, although etched in furrows of time, still battle to help salvage their devotions. Through their entrails, emerge the touch of compassion to which, the one who seeks out security, finds it within their grip. These old hands, seemingly being a fatality of time, nonetheless, hold the strength to solve a loved one’s dilemma. These old hands, although have written many chapters and finished many books, still hold a willingness to carve. These old hands, although cut and bruised from falls that kill, still breathe life so robust. These old hands, although an image of twilight, yet manages to cast sunlight. These old hands, moreover stained with blood from past, still carries space untouched. These old hands, although in time, will be vanquished by life’s end. These old hands, yet wholly missed, hold such hearts within their grip.