my parents’ hands have grown old together. 30 years of a friendship so deep one would think they had just met. people say eyes are the windows to the soul but palms and fingers and wrists have traced its outline in unimaginable ways. it’s funny how we count on our fingers like the greatest quantity we could ever imagine is a solid 10. how profound a race; how intricate a race. and this is how love sprouts. you put your palms up against theirs and all of a sudden you’re capable of more. you’re both capable of more. 20 now. the power of love is tenfold. it’s not my parents’ anniversary. and both are still with me today. there shouldn’t have to be a reason or occasion to celebrate pure love.