My Renegade Hand

I once read an article about a rare disorder called "Alien Hand Syndrome". It's usually associated with a brain trauma, like an infection or a stroke. Usually, but not always. It happens like this -- One hand becomes alien to the body, working independently from the rest. You might not even know it is happening until you catch a bit of movement from the corner of your eye, only to discover that your own left hand is flapping away, wild and untamed. Here's the part that is most frightening: some people with this disorder report that the hand doesn't just operate independently, it undoes what the first hand has done. It may be discovered sneaking up behind the first hand, unbuttoning buttons or unzipping zippers. It may catch a door just before it latches. It may jerk the wheel into oncoming traffic. This hand, this alien hand, becomes a renegade.

I think about this condition from time to time, the renegade hand. I wonder if this unlikely condition could be to blame for some of my misadventures. Maybe it's the hand that reached up and unraveled an otherwise quiet life. Maybe it's the hand that pushed his button or poked her bruise. Maybe it's the hand that tipped the glass of red wine onto the cream-colored rug or dropped that burning cigarette. Maybe this renegade hand is to blame for the wild and untamed condition of my life. Maybe this renegade hand is to blame for the wild and untamed condition of my hair. Hmm. I suppose that does seem rather unlikely.