The Hand

2-10 HandWhile driving on Del Rio Pike behind a shiny, black BMW, I noticed that the passenger had his hand out the window letting the air catch it like an airplane in flight. Since I was a kid I’ve often done the same thing especially when someone else is driving. For some reason to let the air catch my hand and pull it up has always carried with it a happy and carefree feeling of freedom and adventure.  I made an immediate connection with that hand even though it was in a sixty-thousand dollar car and mine cost less than half as much. I fondly recalled long-gone days riding with my Uncle Bill in his 52 Chevy pickup with my hand flying through the air. Once again I recalled the sound of the engine, smell of the cornfields, the scenes from the “country” and fishing on the Buffalo River.

As I followed the hand bouncing in the air, I wondered about the person who owned it. Who is he? What is he about? Is he happy? Is he in school or does he work? As the hand pulled into the driveway of a mansion with the entrance gates already opening on demand, it occurred to me that we are all pretty much the same when we strip away everything but our skin.

Something to Think About

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