If this hammer could talk, what a tale it would tell. As I look down at its strong wooden handle and metal head I hear its voice. I catch my reflection in the shiny metal and see the woman I have become. The handle is smooth. Rubbed down with the hand that has gripped it firm. Dirt shows around the edge. The part of the handle held, still shiny and sleek. The dirt rubbed away with the heavy work that has been carried out with its help.