Palm Reading

I probably shouldn’t admit that
reading his palm made me move
in with him. That would seem
superstitious and I’m really not
superstitious. Neither do I know
anything about palm reading.

He had said, ‘Why don’t
you and your daughter move
in with me and my sons.’
And I’d said, ‘Why?’ and
he’d said, ‘ Because you
are unhappy.’ And I’d cried.

So we were making small talk to
lighten the situation and I picked up
his hands. Blunt hands, soft and
slightly plump, large square palms
with delicate fingers. ‘Like mine,’
I thought. And the lifeline and
the one above, set apart, like mine.

It wasn’t noticing these things,
but holding his hand like that,
it was as if I recognised it, as if
my body knew his body.
I’m not talking about lust,
just this knowing, like looking back,
like memory.


10 thoughts on “Palm Reading

  1. How lovely. I like your picture, too.

    When I met each of my three guys (my husband and our two kids) it felt like they were people I’d known before that I’d finally found. And this was the truth.

    How’s that sweetie of yours doing?

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