I used to not like my hands, blocky and sturdy with thick knuckles, not dainty and delicate in the least. I always thought mine were better suited for a plow than a piano.
Every story is important. Especially the forgotten ones.
August always meant vacation week for my family. We would load up the camper and a tent and make the two-hour drive to the lake, our fingers crossed the whole way that our very favorite campsite wasn’t taken.