never faileth

for as long as i can remember the smell of paint and sawdust has been the smell of my father. but even having been his daughter for my whole entire life, there are millions of things i don't know about dad.

he told me today that he always wanted to be a brick-layer because it seemed so timeless and lasting, putting work into a brick wall that might stand for centuries.

we were laying cement and rocks outside in our yard along this old staircase, trying to make it look decent. all day today, watching dad and brother mix cement into mortar, helping pick the best-fitting rocks to put along each edge, and brushing the mortar smooth around each stone. while brother got the job of hauling the wheelbarrow around and shoveling mortar into place, i was given an old paint brush and a bucket of water. before the mortar is completely set, you smooth it out with the brush. you push it away from the stones, drag it into just the right slope, making an art of the way it moves around and beneath and between the rocks.

there is a lot of stuff my dad knows how to do. i've always admired him for the one time he hot wired our car when we lost the keys at the beach, for the time he remodeled our kitchen for mom, for all the things he's built and fixed and taught me.

there are things i know how to do that my dad doesn't. i can pick the right font for a wedding announcement that will be sent out to dozens of people in the mail and perhaps stuck on their refrigerator for a few months and then tossed away.

but my dad, he can take some rocks and some cement and a few days' hard work, and he can build a wall that'll stand for a lot longer than that. and he can do it with all the care and attention and artistry that i would put into designing my own wedding announcement.

it was mother's day last weekend. i'll have to write up a post like this for her sometime.