MY STORY

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I've always believed that some of the simplest memories shape who you become.

 

I can remember being old enough to walk but too young to be awake at 10 O'clock at night. I would sneak down the hall, tip-toe over the creaky hardwood floor through the kitchen and out the side door.  The steps always made it more difficult to close the door than it was to open it, but with a full stretch I could just do so quietly. Making my way towards the warm glow of my Dad's shop, my mind would race trying to guess what he was working on… You could always smell it before you could see it; be it fresh cut maple for some kitchen cabinets or burnt engine oil off a friend's car he was repairing. Regardless, he was building, fixing and most importantly creating and designing things with his hands. Standing ready in my PJ's and oversized earmuffs, I was there passing him tools and crawling under the hood to hold the light; I was in heaven.

 

He called me a “shop girl”, and I guess I still am.  😊