Blessed
I was picking up the clutter on my bathroom counter, which mainly consists of putting hair ties and clips away in the cabinet and hanging necklaces up when I paused for a moment to be grateful. My dad made me a beautiful necklace holder last year and even came up to intall it for me. It's not overly complicated and has been easily taken for granted this past year, but I paused to appreciate how nice it is to just hang my necklaces up now and not sort through a tangled mess of them.
I came down stairs and turned off the under-cabinet light that I leave on while I sleep. Again, I had to stop and smile and think of Dad, who took it upon himself to remedy the problem of poor lighting left by the previous homeowners and spent hours working through a beautiful solution for me.
I put away some dishes from the previous night and noticed the trash was full. I carried the bag out the garage and stood to admire the potting table he made this spring. While I love having a place for my flower pots and tools, I love the memory of him working with Flash to build this for me. The act itself means as much, if not more than the product they created together.
Before I came back in, I picked up the hose and watered the plants on the deck. The spigot only works because my dad, Bear and Jules spent time trying to figure out why I didn't get much water pressure and finally installing new spigots outside for me. They work wonderfully now, and have made gardening so much easier for me all summer long.
When I came back inside, I sat in the living room to check my email, feet propped up on the coffee table Dad built. End tables of his creation sit on either side of the sofa and around the room are plant stands built by his hands. There are bookshelves and a headboard in Flash's room a hope chest upstairs, and shelves still waiting to be hung that he has crafted over the years with love to help make first my childhood room, then my dorm room and eventually my house a home.
I am full of gratitude, today, Dad. Not just for the gifts you create for me, but for the countless hours of thought, planning and craftsmanship that has gone into each one. I love not only the functionality of each piece, but the time and energy that you poured into each one.
I love you, too.
I came down stairs and turned off the under-cabinet light that I leave on while I sleep. Again, I had to stop and smile and think of Dad, who took it upon himself to remedy the problem of poor lighting left by the previous homeowners and spent hours working through a beautiful solution for me.
I put away some dishes from the previous night and noticed the trash was full. I carried the bag out the garage and stood to admire the potting table he made this spring. While I love having a place for my flower pots and tools, I love the memory of him working with Flash to build this for me. The act itself means as much, if not more than the product they created together.
Before I came back in, I picked up the hose and watered the plants on the deck. The spigot only works because my dad, Bear and Jules spent time trying to figure out why I didn't get much water pressure and finally installing new spigots outside for me. They work wonderfully now, and have made gardening so much easier for me all summer long.
When I came back inside, I sat in the living room to check my email, feet propped up on the coffee table Dad built. End tables of his creation sit on either side of the sofa and around the room are plant stands built by his hands. There are bookshelves and a headboard in Flash's room a hope chest upstairs, and shelves still waiting to be hung that he has crafted over the years with love to help make first my childhood room, then my dorm room and eventually my house a home.
I am full of gratitude, today, Dad. Not just for the gifts you create for me, but for the countless hours of thought, planning and craftsmanship that has gone into each one. I love not only the functionality of each piece, but the time and energy that you poured into each one.
I love you, too.
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