My Father’s Hand

March 11, 2014By susannahmarsUncategorized No Comments

I miss my father’s hand. My first recollection of the feel of it was strolling through the park, looking at the model sailboats on the pond, sharing italian ices, then finding Alice in Wonderland. His immense hand dwarfed mine.  His nails were short and clean, and its skin was vaguely rough, closer to smooth, but … Read More