River has my brother’s hands.
I discover it like something unearthed. His hands always here, doing. Building legos, shaping playdough, creating drawings till he wears a coat of pencil lead along the sides like I once did in my teenage room spending hours lost in the transformation of white paper to something else.
They are my brother’s hands.
I never noticed until one day, I held them and the words burst out: a firecracker.
“You have hands just like Bryan”
And then they were.