The Black Hand

Dear Dan,

I was talking to a co-worker today about how her daughter gets wet in the grass while playing outside in the morning. None of the other kids have the same problem.

I remembered something I haven’t thought of in ages. When we were kids mom always knew when you had been somewhere. There was always a black hand print. No matter how clean your hands looked or how often you washed your hands, there was always a black hand print. Our own little bit of the Cosa Nostra was what mom said.

We would send birthday or Christmas cards to the cousins or Grandmother and Granddad. We always signed our names. You always put a black thumbprint and there was never any question that you had given your stamp of approval.

Speaking of Christmas and birthday cards, you always had me rolling on the floor with the cards you sent. I looked forward to the cards or a postcard when you travelled. You always found something hilarious.

You have no idea how much I miss that.

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