Everybody in my family has different hands. My dads hands are muscular, callaced, and dark. They’re the kind of hands you look for and grab when you are scared. The kind of hands that work hard day in and day out to provide for a family. My brother hands, are frail and weak, like a twig off a branch. They’re the kind of hands that grip an xbox controller for hours and hours on end. My mom's hands are soft and delicate. They’re the kind of hands that are constantly feeding and taking care of her two children. My hands however, are a little bit of everything. My hands are bony and boring. They’re the kind of hands that pound a basketball for hours on end. The kind of hands that grip the butt of the fishing rod on a hot summer day.