A part

Just a favourite part of me? Surely not, they must be kidding with these daily prompts. I can reel off any number of parts that I don’t like or would prefer otherwise. Like a pointy head, ears way too big, eyebrows that continually threaten to take over my face, a stomach like a barrel, legs so thin I look like a pudding on sticks. Oh the list goes on. But my fingers, now my fingers I do like. I like their length, I like their shape, I like the way they refuse to get fat while the rest of my body balloons out of control.

These ten fingers that have typed countless words over the last sixty years or so for both work and pleasure. These fingers that are now reflecting that load with some stiffness and soreness. Will my voice and dictation take up the slack? Maybe, but there are always corrections and buttons to push and items to select where the fingers have to step in.

Writing, to me, is simply thinking through my fingers.

– Isaac Asimov

How would I eat or clean myself were it not for the use of my fingers and hands? These fingers that have given me so much pleasure through the sensation of touch like patting and stroking my pets. The pets enjoy it and I enjoy it but it is my fingers that do all the work.

We should give as we receive, cheerfully, quickly, and without hesitation; for there is no grace in a benefit that sticks to the fingers.

– Lucius Annaeus Seneca

I may admit to noticing faults or flaws in other parts of my body but they do not prevent me from liking, nay loving, myself just as I am. But there is no contest really, my fingers are my favourite part of the container that currently carries my soul.

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