Busy Hands

BUSY HANDS
BY
RICK KURTIS
 
            If you could compare apples to oranges, it would be no different than comparing every human talent. There are so many traits that are alike but yet so many variables that are different. This controversy keeps the world in check and balanced for the most part, humanity.

      If a person was smart, they could use a talent to accomplish great feats, helping others or to get ahead of the rest of the world. People that could dance, run marathons, body build or play an instrument to entertain others; that would be their special talent of their very own. Whether they chose to use their talent or not, is totally up to them.
A man was good with his hands and had no time for trouble. When he was troubled, he would use his hands to work out the frustration and anxiety. His life growing up on a farm taught him how to use his hands, not for musical instruments or for complex surgeries but for hard physical labor. He followed in his father’s footsteps with good moral values, ethics and traits, working for the joy of working from sun up past sundown. Days filled his life with what only a poor farm had to offer but it didn’t deter him from wanting more. Guided by the farm, he continued to work with his hands once he was out on his own. This made his hands rough, callous, big and strong but still gentle enough to cradle a baby chick, to caress a woman’s face with love and compassion or wipe a baby’s bottom.
            While the years passed by, many projects were made by the man’s hands. These projects were a source of release of either frustration or a labor of love for his family. When troubled, the projects would be more intense, taking him back to his labor on the farm, back to the brutal hard work of his family roots. He would dig, build or tear apart something just to start over from scratch. This gave him time to think, being alone in his solitude, contemplating on his situation whatever it was at the time. By the time he was done with the project, the problem had faded away or was gone. If not, he would know how he was going to handle or deal with it and continued on with his life. These projects were demanding, using a lot of brainpower along with exhausting blood pumping sweat to completely drain his body and mind.
            Even though his job consumed most of his day, he always had time to finish what he had started whether it was digging, building, painting or drawing. On the other hand, the family projects brought joy and satisfaction that emulated from the heart which spread past the family and brought joy and laughter to so many others. His hands worked on projects which usually led one to another. He didn’t have to think or to contemplate on what to do. It would just pop into his mind and his hands would go into action, designing, building or just holding the hand of a loved one and going for a walk. These were days of much pleasure and were talked about often.
            Now years later, his life had gone gray with weathered lines upon his face. His children had grown and his troubles were few so the projects were more of joy. He made games and thought up stories for his grandchildren, once again pleasing people beyond the family. These projects
consumed his life and kept him busy late into the night working for months until the day came to unveil his creation typically on a day of celebration. All the family would gather to watch or to be a part of the action, depending on what he had planned, all the while recording the whole thing on video to save for future viewing of past memories.
            His games and stories had turned into writings, keeping his hands busy with love and his mind full of ideas of passion, bringing happiness to so many. The pens spun while his imagination gathered information from his children and grandchildren. He would ask how the grandchildren liked their stories and would get the response of, “Oh, I only have to read it to them every night.” This made him smile with delight knowing that his love and nurture was passed down to his children and they too now had busy hands.
They often said that “Time flies fast when you’re having fun” and boy, did his life ever pass him by. Every morning while he looked into the mirror, he could see a great satisfaction on what he had accomplished and continued to think of what to do next that would give him busy hands.