Dad's Workshop

“Saturday morning and dad's already in the garage. The transistor radio playing oldies — Motown, always Motown. Sawdust hanging in the stripe of sun through the window. He gives you a job: hold this board steady. Don't move. You hold it like your life depends on it. The saw whines through the wood and you feel it vibrate up your arms. He checks the cut, nods. Doesn't say good job but you can tell. WD-40 and coffee and wood shavings. The particular silence of a man who teaches by doing.”