this was sort of a blooper picture.
but i really like it because it looks like home.
and photos with hands are so interesting to me. i feel like hands are often where aging starts. whenever she sees me, my mom grabs my hands and rubs them in her own. she says they're youthful, and so soft and so small compared to hers. they're so ordinary to me, but she marvels at them. after all, they came from her. but the hands of a twenty-something seem to exist in an entirely different universe from hers. and i think she's right, that hands do put things in perspective, and it's not by mere chance that we call the tickers on clocks hands -- the hands of time. when i was little, i used to try to scratch off a mole between my left thumb & pointer finger. it seemed so big when i was three, and i didn't understand what it was. now it seems so small to me -- i have to squint my eyes to steal a look.