Curiosity Under Scrutiny
Gently my grand-daughter pulled my hand closer for examination.
She scanned it methodically as if doing a grid search for a lost soul in the forest.
I held my breath and hand steady while with her other hand she traced the perimeter of my aged
boney fingers, and my bulging veins.
Finally, after intense scrutiny she gave a long weary sigh as if making a gigantic medical diagnosis.
Grandpa, she said, “Why do you have such hairy hands?”
Laughing I said, “Well I guess that’s just a man thing. I really have no control over that.”
She looked up at me, directly eye to eye, as if I were hiding some elemental truth, eventually, releasing
my hand, letting it drop.
Perhaps satisfied with her new found knowledge. I wasn’t sure.
She left for other more important things, “Bye for now grandpa, that’s enough adult talk.”
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