Hand quilting creates callouses. I have pushed tiny needles in and out of fabric and batting for thirty years, and the damage to the pads of my fingers has been painful. Yet after hundreds of tiny pricks in the tips of my fingers the skin responded by getting tougher, in anticipation of future pokes.

 

Playing the guitar has also caused my fingertips to thicken, from hours of being scraped against the strings. There were evenings in high school when I strummed for hours beside a campfire, or in a dorm room full of emotional senior girls anticipating graduation. As a new teacher I sang for my students every day, and took the guitar with us on picnics. 

 

But the price was that I lost any feeling in my fingers. 

 

 I don't play the guitar nearly as much now as I did as a teenager, and I do more machine quilting than hand stitching. Hence my skin has let down its guard. I can once again feel the softness of velvet, and the brush of a flower petal.

 

The other day I was watching a show that got sketchy. I am still careful to avoid scenes that include actors jumping into bed with people they are fictionally in love with. Or not. I am trying to preserve the sensation of tenderness, that years of abrasive movies can render numb.