The Carpenter
by Eddie Krzeminski He says one day I can have it all: the house with the paid mortgage, the lawn with the carefully trimmed hedges, the business and the trucks and the lungs full of wood dust. Under his wing, he shows me the finer points of woodwork; coaching me on the inherent crookedness of walls, teaching me to trust my eyes more than the tape measure. These days he knows I've been waking up hungry, yearning for the kind of life where I can rise with the sun and put in my penance — a day's worth of hard work that will scar these silk-soft hands. The same hands of my father that I saw as a child pointing to something I needed to notice, that familiar bend in his index where the table saw wouldn't give even an inch, leading my eyes. |
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