There’s something about every day life that I find so comforting sometimes. The thought that every day life is meant to be simple, and in that simplicity beautiful. I’m not sure where your hands have been today, but mine have done nothing heroic and nothing earth-shattering. However, this prompt made me realize how important it is to appreciate the small things every now and then.

My pillow is a cheap Walmart brand that has soft small balls that form
from my restlessness at night.
My hands find them first thing in the morning on the cool side.
My hands have caressed my daughters curls, 
and wiped my sons tears. They’ve handed out suckers 
and Lowe’s cacti, pushed carts
and buckled belts.
They’ve held my husband’s beard
itchy between fingers.
They’ve high fived students,
wiped mascara from wrinkle creases,
knuckle bumped baristas,
and flipped pages to find verses to heal
from painful memories…again.
They’ve typed up poems meant for no one else but
the Spirit they sang praises to,
burned themselves on stovetops
before plating dinners;
wrapped themselves warm around a snug toddler
and ran themselves slowly through wet hair
to the rhythm of deep breathing.
My hands have turned on night lights
and given to life to words rehearsed
about how bravery is “doing it afraid,”
and abusers always fear those who tell the truth.
They’ve written another journal entry
eager for the release that propels my hands
into another day to repeat again
the truth little ears lay thirsty for.
My hands tickle my pillow case to find the frayed side,
while magnesium dreams knock heavily on eyelids.
My hands find my husband’s radiating heat under covers,
thankful for the comfort laced fingertips bring
at the close of another day.