The Garage

The past couple days, my sweet husband has been building me (us) a beautiful hutch.
(pictures to come)
He has LOVED working with my Dad's old tools and I've loved watching him enjoy it!

This evening became a bit emotional for me though.
The garage was DAD's domain....his getaway place.
He loved the Florida heat and was often found, sitting in the open garage, in his blue fold-up chair, glass of wine in hand, listening to public radio, and doing Sudoku puzzles.

But the garage was more than just Dad's "sitting area."
It was "him."
If you had never met my sweet Daddy, you could easily know who he was by just looking thru the garage.

Today I cried just seeing the old, dried up paint on his sawhorses, knowing that the paint was from many jobs he did.
His old paint brush is beautiful to me...I never want to throw it away.
There's a cheesy little trophy he won from pitching horseshoes in a West Virginia tournament- he refused to get rid of it.
His hats....oh, his hats....who would've guessed that the smell of his old, sweaty hats would be so wonderful?
The falling-apart, duck taped Bible, with the big, smily-faced sticker, was always in the garage, because that's where Daddy always was.
He loved these bright, metal art pieces- toucans, surfer dudes, lizards, and tropical fish....those are in the garage too.
Boxes and boxes of his books, notebooks, journals, and writings are stacked, as well as his many surfboards.

Oh, I miss him....so much.
Sometimes it hits me that he's never coming back.
It hits hard.
I would give anything for another hug, another "I love you Em," another hairy kiss on the forehead....

One day.