There is so much I miss about you. At this very moment it is your hands. I miss the way they held mine, interlocking fingers~ your thumb embracing the top of my wrist. It was as if your thumbprint helped to keep the pulse of what ever adventure was going on in my life flowing. I miss the freckles that painted the canvas of your skin between your two knuckles. The little specks stretched as you gripped your bike handles bars and framed the band on your left ring finger.
I miss the grip you had when your held my hand as we walked the dog, or down street, or around the city, or on the sofa, or my favorite~ in bed as we ever so slowly slipped into slumber. These hands were strong, capable of building and fixing many things. They were soft, gifted in touch and holding my heart. I miss the way the dirt lined the outside of your fingers not your nail beds when we went camping and did not come clean even after a dip in the river until we were home, and a bubble bath was drawn. I love the scar that graced your right hand reminding me of the wild side in life you lived. How I long to run my fingers over that raised mark once again.
I miss how the palm of your hand was the perfect size to hold my head as you hugged me. Each long finger stretched out to caress my cranium in a way that felt safe and protected. I miss the coldness that graced them all winter long, even when you would run them up my bare skin and freeze me and stop me in my tracks. I miss the wrinkles that recently graced your hands from building sets, carrying trays, and most all from holding me.
And now as the year mark is days away I close my eyes and long for your touch. I reach out but fear there is no hand reaching back. I squeeze my eyes really tight trying to remember what your embrace felt like… I fear I have forgotten how it felt, how it fit perfectly. But somehow I know that years from now when we meet again my hands will find their missing piece, they will find yours. Until then I long for your touch my love.
Around the world and back again~