my left hand

One really cold winter I was playing in the snow with my brother and sister (fighting more like).It was one of those days that just didn't get light. The whole day was seeped in grey, murky under the water North sea light, or rather lack of light. I remember it being so bitterly cold. I remember that my fingers were numb to the bone, in fact my whole body was (what there was of it ). It didn't matter, I loved the cold , I loved the bleakness of winter, I always have and always will...I was 5.
I remember something that stayed with me forever, as things do that shock or scare us as children. My brother and sister and I were pelting each other with snow balls (more like ice balls) The darkness of the afternoon had almost turned its lights off completely .In fact it was dark...I just managed to grab one more clump of snow before heading back home. I knew something had gone wrong. I had picked up a broken piece of glass mixed in with snow and while squeezing it into a perfect sphere, I noticed a huge piece of glass coming out of my hand. It didn't feel like anything because I was already numb. It just felt like something very wrong. I could see the blood gushing out, the blood had no colour in the dim light (in fact I don't remember colour much in England except for grey and dark blue) I ran home as quickly as I could, still being attacked by snowballs (life can be so cruel) I was rushed to the family doctor (Dr.Brown) It was a friday night and I remember my father telling me to be brave. It was the first time I had a notion that you could stitch skin.I always thought a needle and thread was only employed with dressmaking. This really had me worried, I could't think how it worked. For a split second I thought the Dr might even run my hand through a sewing machine, not unlike my mothers old singer, only I wasn't singing. It all went well, I received my pocket money and also my first real injury.
I mention this because I just came across an old piece of art I made a few years ago.I hadn't thought about the snowball day when I had created this piece (above) Maybe all the hands in my art stem from that day. Maybe my obsession with anything medical comes from that day.
I sit here staring at my scar that nearly took my finger off on my left hand. I sit here in the warm glow of a perfect Miami day, full of light and colour....Womb-like safety.
God! I miss the cold. I miss the snow, I miss the grey. I miss me. Thank goodness I dont miss my finger.