â€œLille May Allenâ€? Your hands are two personal butlers whoâ€™s soul purpose is to wait on you with absolute, unwavering dedication. They perform every seemingly unimportant task in your day to day lives. Combing your hair, buttoning your pants and signing your name. Poking, picking, hitting, pulling, pointing, scratching, holding. They know what you want before you do. They are there to please you exclusively. It takes years to break in your hands, about 5-6. In the beginning they just fumble and reach aimlessly with no satisfaction. But in time your pulling your foot into your mouth, bringing brightly colored objects to your eyes and pulling simple cottons shirts or silk dresses over your head. During the span of time between ages 6 and 10 you are so very tough on your hands. You have mastered the use of them, but unfortunately you thoughtlessly put them in dangerous situations. Your hands and fingers undergo a lot of damages at this time because of uneducated curiosity. By the time you age to 15, you and your hands have worked out all the essentials. Every one of your gestures are muscle memory and even your handwriting, something as uniquely individual and complex as your finger print, is finalized.
Lillie May Allen
The more we age, the more our hands become a mirror of our life and the work we do. Whatever our life’s calling is, whatever our passions are, whatever are trade is, it shows obviously in our hands. Lillie May Allen is my grandmother. She spent her working career and spends most of her free time in the kitchen. In her earlier years she was a cook and at home she is a master chief. All my life I’ve watched the magic my grandmothers hands create in the kitchen. Because of all the time she spends over a stove the smell of good ol’ fashioned home cooking is infused in her skin. Her hands have always been so soft and warn from years of washing dishes and using butter, Crisco and vegetable oil as lotion. As a little girl I remember curling up against her and just trying my best to suffocate myself with the scent of her. She’d rub my back like a tired kitten with those smooth hands until I fell asleep and I’ve yet to know anything closer to pure Nirvana. This love of cooking is embedded into my DNA. I myself have spent the bulk of my life in the kitchen with my grandma, watching; in the kitchen at home, experimenting; in the kitchen at friends and lovers houses, enjoying. When I wipe my hands clean I notice that the water logged wrinkles, the learning burn and cut scares and the smooth Lillie May Allen
plain of my palms, wrists and fingers match Lillie Mayâ€™s it brings a warm happiness to my heart unlike anything else Iâ€˜ve so far experienced. Whenever I cook for my grandpa, right after I place his plate on the table in front of him, he takes my hand and kisses the top. The perfect thank you from a man of little words and fewer emotions. My hands are an important part of my anatomy. The piece I hold most dear. Its because of my grandma and all the lessons she taught me while her enchantment fingers turned sweet potatoes into pies, whole chickens into soup and water into sweet tea that that I realized that even though I have no desire to be a palm reader to see peoples futures I have an innate ability to be a hand examiner, exploring the bulk of a persons past.
Lillie May Allen