I am wearing the gloves because my skin is cracked and bleeding from all the hand washing and dishwashing. My knuckle bled, there is a little paper cut like opening on my pinkie and red dry skin over much of my hands. They sting and hurt when I don't have the gloves on for washing, so, I have been wearing them almost all day today.
The day wound down, as they do, and we put our little ones to bed. I had my gloves on for story time, for countless requests for this and that, for medicine giving and tea bringing and finally, I had my gloves on for snuggling.
As I lay my hand to caress hair and then gently rest on the blanket that covered my little one, I was struck by a remembering of the magic of our skin. The magic in our hands. This thin layer of nitrile, reminded me that every time we touch, when our skin comes into contact with something, especially our loved ones, something incredible happens. A communication you have to be very present for to feel, or have the choice removed from you to miss.
It is an extraordinary thing, all the experiences we take for granted.
I imagined myself not being to remove the gloves, not being able to have my hands, my skin, feel again. It is then that the remembering came. I sit here now and type and periodically stop and look at my hands. Place them together and feel this magic. Then I type again, feel my fingertips on the keyboard and imagine if I could not feel them with my skin. I am so glad I can.
There are so many blessings among the fear. Countless. This is one I wanted to share with you tonight.
Friday, March 20th, 2020 - Quarantine day 7
