The mark of the hand...

Thank you to whomever it was that taught Sister the pure joy of tracing her own hand. Instead of writing her name on everything she leaves a "hand print."

This special one was at the bottom of our antique table handed down to us from Marc's grandma. This wasn't the only part of the table she got, there was another handprint above it on the main leg of the table.

Bright pink.

Sweet hands.

Gone now.

Because Comet and a Scotch Scrubber pad are my friends (no, the magic eraser did not work).