I wish I could capture that smell, it will fade when you sell the house. Familiarity and a warm goodness of recovery I suppose. I found my book I gave you on the shelf. Who knows if you finished it but there it was with a bank solicitation in the middle as a bookmark. I wish I had written a note in it but I didn’t, I was so cautious back then, even more so.
I found your plans for that shed on the floor in your bedroom. Handwritten diagrams with dimensions, assembly plans, angles and beam widths. It’s just outside your window, covered in tarps, I guess it’s still waiting for you. It sure seems the challenge was more important than the result, the planning more fun than the storage space, the journey more needed than the destination.
It’s funny, I never considered what your house said about you. But it says, while sitting here by the fireplace with the orange brick and the red accent wall in the kitchen–with the kitchen, dining room, hallway and family room all talking to each other—that you were a man understanding of the small yet robust goodness in life. Cultivated and matured by your rhythms and upkeep, the clock ticks on the wall still, the car’s oil was changed early just a few miles ago.
Books on the shelves, the history of Christianity, the farmers almanac, and seemingly every other one being a bible. The crate of tools and more in the shelves in your bedroom. This man knows where life is!
This is really powerful, how you notice and describe the small things like the smell, and the plans for the shed on the floor. You provide beautiful reflections and observations, I can almost imagine myself in the room too. I wish I could have known him!
I agree with Emily, you have picked up on some important elements that trigger one’s memories. Beginning with smells and running through several visuals, the sound of the ticking of the clock and ending with an interpretation of what all those things combined tell you about the man your grandfather was and will always be in your memory. I can imagine him. I know some of his skills and knowledge. I know he was a mom of faith…a man who knows how to work with his hands and his mind. I think it’s a lovely tribute to your Grandfather. Thank you for sharing him with me.