My son held my hand in his, tipped it, looked hard. This hand has done so much work over so much time, he said, and handed me back. I had reached out to light a candle, to lift one thing from here to there, to do something ordinary, an ordinary that turned into an extraordinary. How often do any of us feel recognised and acknowledged in such a way? Since then I look at and see my old gnarled fingers in a different light. They are right there in front of me all day, opening things, turning things, writing things, answering things, holding things, lifting, turning, upturning,moudling,arranging wildflowers, forming dough, spreading, pointing, arresting, catching, holding , performing, retracting, beckoning and pushing away. And more.

I think of all the times I took control and all those times i didn’t. I remember both. In the life I lead now, the power of it not in my hands but in the lives of my children and their young’uns, I don’t feel compromised at all. I don’t know if it’s magic, but my kids are right there for me. What I want to teach them is that olding is fine, that old fingers can still lead you to the dance floor, can still hold, still point, still hold a hug.

I still have the mischief, dance floor, anywhere.