Dirt on Your Hands aka something important I forgot about life
Somewhere along the line, we changed our minds about getting dirt on our hands. When you’re a kid, dirt is just something that happens on your way to dinner. It gets on your hands the way aches get in your bones as an adult. You don’t plan for it or think about it. It doesn’t stop your day unless fate is working against you, like your mom telling you to wash up or your back flaring up so bad you can’t get the recycling bin all the way down the driveway. Dirt happened. Your knees would get covered, too, jeans worn to white threads threatening to hole and sneakers equal parts rubber and mud. But it was the hands that did it. Caked dirt, dirt…
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