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I’ve never truly realized the effect of time, until i watched my grandfathers hands. Those same hands have been to war, work everyday; so it’s understandable how I could confuse them for strong hands. At age Seventy Two, he refuses to just be still. Going to work every day, and taking care of his morning and night. He’s suffered lose. My grandfather has felt the affect of time, but I never knew until I saw his hands. The hands that work in the garden during summer, and shovel snow during winter. Cradled babies, and grand babies. I saw those hands....Callused, wrinkled. I’m not sure why I was so surprised, but I couldn’t get over my Grandfather’s hands. That night I realized even the young grew old...As he prepared for the morning, with a certainty that there would be another sun. I saw his withered hands, quiver with age. Now I see an old man’s body, instead of a pillar of strength., with a deep reality of time.