Everyone’s hands tell a story.

When I look at my grandpa's hands,

Wrinkly and veiny yet strong,

I see everything he has been through.

Richard Smith wasn’t always a grandfather.

his hands to steered a navy ship,

shook other soldiers hands,

and to saluted his captain.

Then he met my grandmother, Marilyn.

He intertwined his fingers with hers,

and when the time was right,

he held a ring in his hand and knelt on one knee.

When Richard became a father,

held all four of his newborn children in his arms.

He hoisted them on to his shoulder when they were toddlers,

and squeezed their hands as they went to school on their first day.

As his kids got older, so did Richard.

Soon, his kids were shaking hands with their college administrators at graduation.

Later, he held both his daughter's hands as they walked down the aisle

and at sixty five, his hands signed papers to close on his house in Florida.

At eighty one, my grandfather's hands now tremble and shake.

He uses his fingers to grip his cane

and his hands to steady himself while he walks.

And while his hands are not as strong as they used to be,

they will always tell the same inspiring story.