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The huge, sausage-like fingers of a dad that have seen things. They’ve been used for fixing stuff, opening jars that scream for mercy, and making the mom weak in the knees.
My dad’s fingers could open a jar of pickles that had been sealed for 10 years.
He used his fingers to tighten the bolts on my bike. It felt like a wrestling match.
His fingers were the reason my mom agreed to marry him.