Day 306: Big Hands

massive hand

My friend Catherine, who started blogging daily a month later than I did, has almost caught up with me. She's on Day 300. Me on 306. Bugger me, how did that happen? It's good, though. And I'm back to daily again now, because I missed it.


Grump, grump, grump. Grumpy wee fuck, that's what I was this evening. Not sure why. Mecker, mecker, mecker, all up in my head. OK now, though, which is nice. There is carnage around me. I'm packing/unpacking/repacking to move. There is an empty melon shell ahead of me, and papery, washbaggy, receipty tatterdom behind me. I'm getting there. Downstairs got itself a hoovering. Upstairs didn't yet, but given that I'm not quite moving yet, maybe that's good. I'm aching for a good cup of maté. Out of bags, but I'm feeling lucky. Who's in Germany? Who's in Germany? Would you do me the honour? Teefilter, that's what I need.

massive hands

That pond. Oh, that pond. Full of women this morning. Yellow oak leaves drifting from their trees. Enough cold to make it pleasing. Not so much to take your breath. Quite cold, but there was no room on a bench to change outside (too many hardy ladies), so I found some grass. I swam and smiled. I will be back, water. I will be back.

pond hands

I'm not moving yet, so I have a few days' more grace to go and play in that water. Lots more playing I'd like to do too. What if it was all easy, as it can be? I keep talking about the great big cradling hand. It's a nice image. It's a God thing, I think. The big, safe hand of God cradling each one of us, so try as we might, we shall not fall. 

this is kind of what I mean

I don't do God so much, but I love that image. Who needs it to be actually true in a literal way. This great big hand, just there. I like the image of curling up in it to sleep. I like that very much. Big hands.