I was typing today, and noticed that my hands are starting to look old. Hard to believe that my infantile mind could be housed in a 35 year old body. My memory is such that I can look at my hands and see so much. When I was a foreign-exchange student, I sat through some classes in school that I was just not capable of keeping up with. I used to spend my time learning all the cracks and lines of my hands. I thought it interesting that people say they know something 'like the back of their hand', and I didn't know the back of my hand before that time. My hands have changed, though.

I worked fast food when I was sixteen. I have burn scars from changing 350 degree cooking oil, and spilling it. I was cleaning some stainless steel one time, and my hand slipped. I have a pretty good scar from the cut that resulted. In college, I reached into a trash bin, and had a tin lid cut deep into my hand. I still have the evidence. My physical scars are a matter of pride. You know? It's the scars that can't be seen that are the deepest.

I haven't talked to my first wife in a long, long time. I just discovered that her father died last month. Funny, but I can't quite figure out how I feel about it.
Just thinking...