the art of creation.

One of the coolest things about myself that i feel no one knows about is the keen knowledge i have about building things. i was blessed by being the daughter of a carpenter (that sounded all too religious....would you believe me if i told you that my father has a freakish likeness to that of jesus as well??). i was driving nails into walls by the tender age of six and roofing houses by 12. i was comfortable working around power saws and generators since as long as i can remember; and had my own tool belt since i popped out of the womb. i know the difference between phillips and flat heads (and can make either work). i love the smell and feel of dirt on my hands, and know that you can't pour concrete if there is even a .8% chance of rain. i can use a level and then snap a chalk line onto the perfectly straight line that i drew out in my brain. i used to do my homework with carpenters pencils, and still love the way the lead feels on wood. i know how to drill in a screw without stripping it. i feel completely comfortable amongst the sharpest of blades that are buzzing faster than i could ever imagine. It is honestly one of my most favorite things about myself. Someday when i get married i hope to receive for christmas (or valentines day, or an anniversary, or my birthday...) a power drill. They are by far my most favorite of tools. My father taught me all of these things and i feel genuinely special because of it. He used to drive my sister and i around towns and point to things and squeal in delight

"look babies!! your daddy built that! that will be there for a very long time...long after i'm dead."

my sister and i would roll our eyes in annoyance, we were probably hungry and on our way to taco bell or the mall. i think about these moments now and experience a tremendous feeling of sorrow. i cannot believe that i would not find myself in a sense of awe that my father built something that people use everyday and will long outlive him and me. The art of creation is something that not many people possess. i doubt i will ever find the right time to tell my father this...but i wish i could. i cannot remember the last time he showed me something he built. i want him to.


Maybe i'll ask him to take me for a drive one day soon, to show me something he has made with his own hands. Something that will be there long after he is gone.

told you he looked like jesus.