The rebel pinky

My right pinky has not played well with the rest of my right hand fingers for some time now. The only time I can make it touch its neighbor is when I curl my hand into a fist.

Do you remember the movie The Secret of Nimh? When Mrs. Frisby's son in sick in bed in their little house and the rats are trying to move the house to the lee of the stone, in advance of the farmer's tractor? Mrs. Frisby puts her hand to her mouth in her despair. The hand on the mouth gesture, I once read, is supposed to provide a sense of comfort. I can attest to this, having done it myself.

These days, however, my pinky won't join in the comforting gesture. I find it particularly disconcerting when I apply lotion to my face. It is unsettling to see this rebel finger just floating nearby, not making contact. Instead of feeling comfortable, it is a not-so-subtle reminder of the changes I have experienced and have yet to experience. Often I take my left hand and use it to hold all the right hand fingers together, then apply the lotion, just to recapture the sensation.

Dumb little pinky.