Every once in a while, when I’m feeling stuck in an interminable loop of cleaning, dishes and laundry, I find a perfect one of these:


Perhaps your house has some too.

What are they?

They are proof that our house is a home. They are evidence of finger-painting, snack-times, and adventures in a muddy garden. They are reminders of sticky hands and wet kisses, big hugs from little men and tiny thumbs in sleepy mouths.

I am always reluctant to wipe them away. I know that one day they will no longer reside on the windows, mirrors and appliances of my house, and I will be sad.

But, after a brief pause, I wipe them off, knowing that as soon as I do, three more will quickly reappear.

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2 Responses to Handprints

  1. The outstanding wife says:

    Perfect. Thanks for the much needed perspective.

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