Celebrating International Left-Handers Day
Today is International Left-Handers Day.
And as someone who has spent a lifetime living in a world that was very clearly designed by right-handed people, I feel as though this is finally our moment.
I’m a lefty.
So were both of my parents.
And apparently, we weren’t finished.
Rachel is left-handed. Nate is left-handed. Morgan is left-handed.
And then there’s Tom.
Tom was naturally left-handed too, but Catholic school had other ideas. He was taught to use his right hand instead, and somewhere along the way he became genuinely ambidextrous.
So technically, I think we still get to claim him.
Still, with six of our kids firmly in the right-handed camp, the lefties are very much outnumbered around here. We just happen to be a rather enthusiastic minority.
There is something wonderfully quirky about being left-handed. Most of the time, we barely think about it.
Until the world reminds us.
Like the first time you sit down at one of those lecture-hall desks with the little writing surface attached conveniently to the right-hand side.
Conveniently for whom, exactly?
A right-handed person settles in, opens a notebook and starts writing.
A left-handed person begins what can only be described as a minor upper-body yoga sequence.
Turn sideways.
Lean.
Twist.
Attempt to balance your notebook.
Wonder whether a college education is really worth this.
Then there is the ink.
Every left-handed child learns this lesson early.
You write a beautiful sentence across a fresh sheet of paper and then discover that the side of your hand has followed directly behind you like a tiny windshield wiper.
Words: written.
Words: immediately smeared.
Side of hand: blue.
And if you’re using a particularly enthusiastic pen, possibly your sleeve as well.
Then came spiral notebooks.
Whoever invented the spiral notebook was unquestionably right-handed.
For everyone else, that cheerful little metal coil spends the entire writing session digging into your hand.
Scissors?
Another adventure.
There are scissors that cut beautifully for everyone else but somehow, when placed into a left hand, suddenly decide their purpose in life is merely to fold paper.
Can openers.
Measuring cups.
Computer mice.
Credit-card machines with pens attached on the wrong side.
Coffee mugs with the design facing away from you when you hold them naturally.
Even dinner can turn into a small seating negotiation.
A lefty sitting beside a righty at a crowded table quickly learns the importance of strategic placement.
Otherwise, dinner becomes less of a meal and more of an elbow fencing tournament.
“Sorry.”
“Oops.”
“Sorry again.”
Eventually someone quietly suggests that perhaps the left-handed person should sit on the end.
We understand.
We’ve been training for this our entire lives.
But being a lefty comes with some advantages too.
In sports, being left-handed can make you wonderfully unpredictable.
Pitchers. Batters. Tennis players. Boxers.
Sometimes just coming at something from the opposite direction is enough to throw everyone else slightly off balance.
Which, come to think of it, may be an excellent metaphor for life.
Left-handers grow up adapting.
We figure things out.
We turn things around.
We approach things from slightly different angles because, quite literally, sometimes we have to.
And maybe Tom becoming ambidextrous is the ultimate example of that.
When the world insists you do something the other way, apparently you simply learn to do both.
Maybe that’s part of the fun of it.
There is something rather delightful about belonging to this accidental little club.
You notice another person signing something with their left hand and immediately think:
Oh! You’re one of us.
No membership card required.
Just show me the ink stain along the side of your hand.
So today, I’m raising my left hand to my fellow southpaws.
To everyone who has turned a notebook sideways.
Fought with a pair of scissors.
Smeared fresh ink.
Bumped elbows at dinner.
Reached awkwardly across a desk.
Or heard someone say:
“Oh! You’re left-handed!”
Yes.
Yes, we are.
We may live in a right-handed world.
But we’ve gotten surprisingly good at doing things our own way.
And perhaps there’s something wonderfully deliberate about that.
Sometimes seeing the world a little differently begins simply by approaching it from the other side.
Happy International Left-Handers Day to my fellow lefties — and to the ambidextrous ones who started out on our side. 😉
Stay quirky.
Stay adaptable.
And for heaven’s sake, let the ink dry before you drag your hand across the page.
Until next week,
Krissy
Design a life you love ~ deliberately.
Deliberate Desires 