Tag Archives: strength


WelderLast night W apologized for being weak.

I told her she is the strongest woman I know.  Even though she has trouble lifting the 40-pound boxes of cat litter into the cart at Target.  Even though I am the designated pickle jar opener.

She didn’t believe me.

When W and I were dating, I first fell in love with her hands.  They are not slender, porcelain model hands.  They are the hands of a real woman.  A capable woman.

W wears silver rings on her fingers.  I like to watch her sew or write or fold sheets.  I like to watch her fingers busy in task while light sparks off her rings as if she is a welder.  It is so sexy it takes my breath away every single time.

Hers are the hands of a doer, a survivor, a finisher.  They are the hands of my lover.

She is strong in all of the places in which I am weak.  When I see myself reflected in her eyes, I feel whole.