Monday, November 9, 2015

Tired. Old. Hands.

Yes, it was intentional to put the periods between these words. You can say these words together all day long and the same thoughts will come to mind. But, if you will, take a look at your hands. Now close your eyes and say these words like I have typed them out. 
Old.
Tired.
Hands.
Did it change anything for you? For me it did. I had never put much thought into. It's something that I have said out loud and to myself numerous times throughout the years. We have all lived different and similar lives, done all the things that has made us who we are today, and had our own perspective of what we did vary even with the brothers and sisters that were right beside of us. But today, as my mind got to pondering over my upcoming 240th birthday (OORAH MARINE CORPS) and Veterans Day following it the next day, those three simple little words jumped out to me. As I settle into my hotel room, actually watching as my fingers move while typing this very sentence, it's resonating with me more and more. Here is what those three simple little words are saying to me.

I watched my hands work, on auto-pilot, taking my contacts out, placing them on their dishes and putting the fluid in the container. Sealing the lid on JUST tight enough. I watch as I rewash my hands afterwards, thinking about all the things I have done with this set of tired aching hands. I grew up playing and running around in the Kentucky woods I called home. I trained and became a Marine, beating and banging every ounce of strength I could squeeze out of these hands to just do ONE MORE PULL UP. Or the time in boot camp when we were on a formation run when I tripped over a root and got ran over by 4 or 5 guys that were running behind me, getting to the training dome for MCMAP and going through all the hand to hang training for the day while my finger and thumb nail was wanting to fall off because I feared like a mutha sucka about being dropped back to TD 1 and pushed through everything I had to with pull ups and all the IT'ing to keep from failing anything. Had skin ripped off my fingers and knuckles while learning the art of Machine Gunning through School Of Infantry. Hot brass and links burning the piss out them while training on hot ranges while in the fleet. All the training pre deployments, all at a time before gloves were a mandatory thing in the military, we had a thing called callouses. All the trash, crap, rocks, you name it, all over the sandbox called Iraq. These hands have patched wounds, caused wounds, held the hands of the fading away. They have caught more tears than any hand ever should. Sometimes they shake from anticipation, from anxiety, from love, from memories I would rather not have, and from memories I pray I never lose but are fading more and more as the same hands reach out clinging to every fiber of the memory that they can possibly hold onto. These hands have felt the loving touch of cold hard steel of that blade and firearm that is more of a tool to me than a screwdriver is to an electrician. A finger that better knows what the feel of a proper trigger squeeze and sear reset is more so than what his own wife’s hands feel like just from memory. These hands have dealt punches and blows in fights and brawls to idiots that want to exercise their freedom of speech to a group of returning Marines in a bar that should had just stayed home to drink. These hands, these worn out hands, what pain and suffering they have delivered in their short time on this earth.
But, these hands have done marvelous things as well. These hands, these old tired hands, they have traveled the world. They have helped build up countries in the worst of conditions. They have held the hand of a small child and played patty-cake with a young girl that isn't even 8 years old yet and has seen more death and destruction than most adults that have lived in a "First World Nation" ever will in their life to include watching the T.V. They have held the embrace of a fellow brother that "just had enough" and needed to be held while he broke down because the demons had finally made head way in his mind. They have held the hand of a spouse and children of a brother that couldn't take it any longer and took the step that he never can come back from. They have been sheathed into my pockets while my body to an onslaught of slaps and punches from a spouse that couldn't find anyone else to blame when their husband took that final step away from the world. These hands have felt the loving embrace of family. They have held the son that I was told I would never have, that same finger that knows the trigger squeeze like a lover was held oh so tightly by my son. These hands have been held and acted as a conduit of love and understanding by my wife in times I felt myself slipping into a dark dark world, and always unsure if the journey out of will be possible. They have held the hand of my mother as she spent her last hours on earth, and the hands of my father that had to say good bye to his wife, soulmate, friend, and partner of 30 years.

At the end of each long and eventful day it's this pair of old tired hands that turns off all the lights, puts the children to bed,  pulls the blankets up and over the body, and settles into the most comfortable position that they can so we can get up and start the day all over again in the morning. Though we have all went through our own personal journeys in this life, we have all ended up in relatively the same place. Our paths have crossed at least one time if not many. We have seen and been through our own fair share of trials and tribulations and have come out of them stronger and more experienced than we entered them. So I want to leave you all with this as a final thought. As Veterans Day draws near and passes, think about where we have been, what we have accomplished, and keep our fallen brothers and sisters’ memory alive. Write down your memories while you remember the details because i assure you, one day they will start to fade. At the end of the day when your washing up before bed, take a look at your hands, take a long look, and see the journey that you have made and the one you are working on now. Everything we have done has lead us here, where will you go tomorrow......



-Chimpo

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