Black & White

 

    It was an 8 X 10 glossy, but in black and white.  The picture was of an old man’s hands.  Worn with labor and aged with frustration.  Just seeing them, one could see a lifetime of harshness.   Now, however, at this moment, they were at rest. Perhaps long overdue.

    The photograph emanated a momentary calmness that the hands had not previously enjoyed.  These were factory hands, controlled by timeclocks and lunch whistles, as were they construction hands, measuring, calculating, erasing errors, questioning, straining to lift.

    Once painful cuts now show up as faded imperfections. Scars of long-ago slips and mishaps no longer hidden beneath band aids blend into the landscape of old age.   Perhaps now, a grandfather’s hands, holding a child's book, turning the pages of someone else’s adventure, in a world of youthful color.