I wanted to know I had a body – for no body is eternal. As child, the Canon taught me how to count on fingers of one hand. In this way, I was fifth – for he counted in order of who to love. God, a mighty thumb, bulbous and worthy. Family, an index less important than God. Friends, an equator running the hand. I kept my ring finger for those I did not know. Then me. Tiniest, least significant, furthest from God. The most unlike the thumb. In every way. Now an adult, the … Continued
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