Memories of Dad

With all this horribleness going on, it's time for some beauty. At least, it's a memory that makes me smile.

My Dad was a master builder. He could make just about anything. He extended and renovated the house, practically rebuilt the cottage, and fixed everything else.

When my parents bought the cottage, it was in a sorry state and needed lots of repair. I have memories of tearing down the back wall, and ripping the black tiles off the roof, and fending off the black flies of June as best as we could. Dad made plans, did the math, measured everything, checked it all, measured it again, then made the cuts.

But for some reason, there was a 2-inch gap between the window over the sink and the edge of the cupboard. Dad could not believe it. He checked all his measurements. That 2-inch gap should not have existed, and yet, there it was. It infuriated him.

When I'd be doing the dishes and he'd come out of the bathroom, walking behind me, I'd tease him saying "Hey Dad... check this out," and then run my fingers along the 2-inch gap. He'd growl at me "You think you're so funny."

The cottage was warm, inviting, and welcomed many people from all over. Although we don't have the cottage anymore, it is one of my favorite happy places that I go to in my mind during times of strife.