I have to admit, when I woke up this morning I had no idea it was Left Handers Day.
In fact I had not known anything except that the bags under my eyes were packed for a weekend at the beach and man do I ever want to go.
So when I saw a pizza company greeting its followers with a hearty ‘Happy Left Handers Day’ and I just felt… vindicated.
Because it you’re not a lefty, you don’t understand what it is like at all.
Struggling with can openers because your dominant hand is the one holding it tight instead of turning.
Writing in school and the graphite pencil smearing up the letters as you go, coating your hand grey like a glittery statue.
Pulling off getting the lefty glove for PE and feeling happy that you can actually play somewhat coordinated (instead of dropping the glove to throw).
I even had issues opening doors at school because the doorknobs swung a different way than I automatically tried. As if school wasn’t embarrassing enough at times- I couldn’t even open a door.
However, I don’t think my handedness resulted in my automatic push on a pull -to-open door and impeding struggle to open it the right way- sometimes handled by a stranger.
I am special in that both my mom and dad are lefties.
So things like tying my shoes and learning letters was easy with them.
However, the bad apple in the bunch was my poor brother, who was born right-handed and was therefore a disability in our lefty world.
He truly understands the meaning of living in a world dominated by the other hand.
My grandpa had installed left-turning doorknobs in our home.
We owned left-handed scissors.
He wore velcro-close shoes for an extended period of time because none of us could teach him to tie his shoes successfully.(Thanks to the kindergarten teacher that helped him learn.)
My mom had to get her guitar re-strung from left-handed to right-handed so he could play on it.
And so on.
So happy Left Handers Day, my righty bro.
For you know a little of what it is like to be a southpaw.