Never Too Late to Say "I'm Sorry"

Dear Left Hand,

I have to admit it. I owe you an apology. Up until now, I have considered myself the Most Important One. The Hardest Worker. The Only One That Really Matters.

It took you getting hurt for me to realize just how much I depend on you. I mean sure, I'm the one that opens jars and wipes bottoms; that's why I've always gotten all the glory, why I have puffed myself up into believing that you didn't matter.  But you were always there: the silent helper that handed me the toilet paper. The stalwart assistant that held the jar still so that I could unscrew the top. The partner in hand-washing, clapping, and showering. You have worked just as hard as I have at getting children dressed, typing on the keyboard, making dinner, giving baths. Maybe I brush the teeth, but you squeeze the toothpaste. Maybe I hold the knife, but you steady the vegetables.

So, I'm sorry. I'm sorry I have always taken you for granted. Sorry that I thought I was better than you.

I miss you. I love you. Sweeping just isn't the same without you. Please get better soon.

Sincerely,

Right Hand