Working with Dad

When I was a little girl, I loved to go to the work with my dad, a printer. I would take papers off the folding machine. Got so I could run that machine as fast as the adults. The machine had a rhythm, and I would get into the beat. Once you took the papers off the folding machine, they had to be jogged down (put on a little machine that made them all even) and then loaded into boxes.

My son is helping his dad build a sunroom. Watching them dig together and take breaks in the pool reminds of those days with my dad. Didn’t matter what the work was, Dad had my undivided attention and I had his. I want that for my son, a teenager who doesn’t spend a lot of time with his dad. Though they both love computers, computers tend to isolate us, not bring us together.

But digging in the dirt gives you time to talk. It gives you time to contemplate what bothers you. It gives you time be together.
I miss working with my dad. But there are good memories, so I hope this summer is good for my boys. Even if it’s not, I will get a sunroom out of it. Can’t be that.

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