Story:These Old Hands

Wave after wave flowed gently across the golden sea. It was calming, mesmerizing. It helped Akwi to lose himself, forgetting the pain in his hands and in his heart. There was no rhythm to these waves, unlike the water. He liked the ocean; it was steady, unceasing. It made him want to dance and sing. He did not feel like dancing or singing. He felt like forgetting. The waves of the corn were for forgetting. They were unpredictable. They didn't let his mind wander, but kept it close with their wandering.

A drone hummed overhead, cutting through the stillness with the whine of its anti-gravs. The sadness returned. Sadness from the hole and sadness from somewhere deeper. He avoided thinking of the hole and thought of the far back sadness. The drones always made Akwi sad. He wasn’t sure why; it came from somewhere deep inside him, far back where he couldn't see.

He reached out for the unfinished hat on the nearby post. With his other hand he plucked a long leaf of corn. He was forced to return the hat to its post so he could steady his shaking hands as he tore it into strips. Only two of the strips were usable - the others fell misshapen from his trembling hands.

Taking up the hat he began to weave. To begin is all he could manage. He dropped the hat and followed it with his tears. Kahwi...

"Are you okay?"

Akwi raised his gaze to the sky.

"Mister, are you alright?"

As he turned toward the voice, he saw a hand reach to the hat and raise it from the ground.

"Here's your hat," the young girl smiled kindly as she offered it to him, "It's very nice." She looked at the strips of corn leaf still in his hand, then back at the hat. Her face shifted to a look of concern.

"Thank you," Akwi smiled back.

"Is it broken? I can run and replicate you another if you'd like."

Akwi chuckled. "It is not the hat that is broken, young lady."

When she continued to look on with confusion, he continued, "It is not yet finished. I have been weaving it from the leaves of this corn."

"You made that?!" her eyes widened. After a moment, she chirped, "will you show me how?"

How quickly her confusion had turned to determination. "I wish I could, but my hands aren't quite as steady as they were. Just old, broken hands now."

"You could try. I've never seen anyone make anything like that before."

He sighed, then replied, "Sit down."

The young girl set her bag in the dirt beside her as she sat. Akwi showed her the pattern of the weave that was already completed. She watched and absorbed.

As he took off the leaf to continue the weave his hands began again to shake. The harder he focused on steadying them the more they shook. The girl looked at his hand, then into his eyes. He had not realized that the sadness had disappeared until it began creeping back. How he despised these old hands. He dropped them to his sides where he sat in the dirt.

Suddenly, the girl reached her hand out to his and raised it from the ground. She placed it back on the weave and looked back into his eyes. The gentle smile that filled her eyes more than her lips pushed back the sadness.

Kahwi...

Akwi returned his attention to the weave, and with the steadying hand of the child on his, he continued. Upon finishing, he handed her the second strip of leaf.

She took it and began her own weave, sloppily at first, but improving with each pass. He watched as she worked intently. She was soon finished and ran to retrieve more leaves. After 15 minutes she had completed the hat.

"Oh, this is wonderful," she declared.

"You did quite well, you know. Replicators can do amazing things, but they cannot replace the act of creating something yourself. It is a journey of exploration to create something."

Akwi took the hat and placed it unsteadily on her head. "I think this will serve you well..." He looked down the path that led away from the settlement, "where you are going?"

The girl gave him a quick hug. "Thank you," then, looking at his wrinkled hands, "I don't think you are broken."

He watched as she turned and darted away almost as suddenly as she had come.

After a moment, Akwi looked at his hands. The pain returned, but the sadness did not.