Yesterday in the car I looked down at my hands. To my surprise I saw my grandfather's hands. I know my beard and my hair are increasingly gray. As I stared at my hands they had a tissue thin leathery parchment look. It was disconcerting. It is no big secret we are all aging and someday we will die, but I'm not sure I believe it. There was a sense of dread that came over me.
Today while driving my daughter to school we saw the leaves starting to change in preparation for winter. There were trees that had given in to the dying process and were the first to change. As I saw those trees I thought of winter approaching. There were some fleeting unpleasant thoughts, but at the same time there was a looking forward to cooler weather and a change of scenery.
Why couldn't I look at my hands like that?
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