“Hand it me”

“I’d walk to the ends of the earth hand in hand with Chace Keaton and all he had to do to get me to do it was kiss me deep, smile at me, hold my hand and call me baby.”

“Hand me my pants,”

“...I couldn't let go of her hand. For a few moments, I looked at the shape of it, the roundness of her fingers. I realized that her hands gave me a sense of comfort because they were the most familiar part of her to me. Those hands had always been in my sight when I was a child. Those were the hands I held crossing the street, the hands that made me lunch and cooked me dinner, the hands that stroked me when I was feeling sad, the hands on the steering wheel driving me all over town, the hands whose rings I had looked at and played with, turning them around on her finger. I knew then that regardless of how we had fought and cried and how adoption had affected us both, those hands, free of words and emotional baggage, encompassed everything. They were pure love-all the love that she had for me.”

“Life didn’t hand me lemons. Or limes. But staying with the citrus motif, it did hand me oranges. How do you like them apples?”

“I make my hand my whole world. Hand hand hand hand. I push through the sand and light and heat, and with every bit of strength I have in me, I squeeze back.”