My Hands

My hands are changing.

Where once was soft, smooth skin, now strength.

Callouses. Suddenly the creases in my palm are so pronounced I think a palmreader could read them blindfolded, just by touch.

From the top they look like ordinary hands. Long thin fingers. Nails painted. You might wonder where my rings are.

But turn them over and you know.

These are the hands of a drummer.

Because I am six at heart

I have been sitting in on Sidy's children's class because I open the church for him. Lately there has only been one student... but that little boy has been very dedicated. He practices every day and comes in excited every week. He is six.

This little boy is very cute when he plays. He tells Sidy how easy drumming is, even when he is struggling to get a new rhythm. Sometimes he cries when it is too hard. Often he has a little swagger and it is clear that he is itching to solo.

The other night I told Sidy I was just like that little boy. I get cocky. I get taken down a notch and cry. And I really really LOVE to play those drums.