I have walked past her in the garage, her top off, her drawers and door removed thinking, “Next summer,” Yet, I have never taken the sander purchased to rid her of red paint out of its box.
I walk by and I start thinking of how he built it without a single power tool, not even an electric screw driver. I think of the cutting and sanding and nailing and, oh my, all the work in the garage late at night, cleaning up every last piece of dust before ending for the night, just so she could have a dry sink like in the Ethan Allen catalog. I remember when she lent it to me when they downsized to a condo and I gave back when they needed walkway space for his wheelchair.
I probably should just bring it into the house, but I cannot move it on my own. It weighs a ton and I can only imagine what is underneath it. I should do something, though, maybe this summer? Perhaps, writing about it can spur real life?
4 comments:
Anita, I love this glimpse into your parents' lives. I like the idea of writing spurring action. I'm already envisioning your dad's dry sink, sanded, refinished, and inside the house where you can appreciate its connection to your parents daily. Thanks for reminding me that my dad made a dry sink that we had in our house growing up. My parents had to give it away in their last move, but your writing has sparked good memories of it and our family room.
I do think that writing can be the inspiration for something that you subconsciously want to happen. I suppose we should be referring to it as "manifesting." I remember when my class did the Slice of Life challenge several years back, it seemed that kids were doing more interesting things, taking a few more chances on novel activities because they knew they would then be able to write about it. I guess that's sort of the reverse of your experience, but I felt that it was the slicing that was pushing their actions. I also connect to this piece, because I think the first piece of furniture my wife and I ever bought together was an old dry sink. I didn't even know what they were, but it was a fixture in our house for years.
I love this idea of telling your story through an object. I had to look up images of a dry sink; that is remarkable your father built it without powertools. Thank you for sharing this slice.
Love this exercise -- writing about a meaningful object and its history is so powerful. I imagined your parents and their roles, playing out like a movie in my mind. And the passage of time changing them, and the furniture. I think writing about it shows your mind is working out the problem of how to make it yours -- I bet your subconscious will keep chipping away at it and suddenly bam! You'll know.
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