I love old tools. The history, the patina; the story...the creations. The long hours of love making with wood and sawdust. Pencil behind the ear. Rusty nails. Cold coffee in a chipped cup. Perhaps it's whiskey I'm seeing. Cigarette smoke swirling above his head. He rolled that puff himself. Oil lamp flickering in the messy shed. Black lab sleeping under his feet. Sitting on the wobbly stool watching him work. Yes, these are the best memories. Can you remember?
2 comments:
You just described my grandfather - cept for the cigarette and whisky. Those fond memories will remain close to my heart forever and ever. Oh how I miss him.
Anna :)
VA: I just got goosebumps because I wondered if my readers would think it was a lover or friend. I was talking about my grandfather! I feel the same way as you....forever heart memories.
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