Chapter 10
I moved back into the Craftsman.
The first night, I sat on the wraparound porch with iced tea. The pecan tree shaded the driveway. Somewhere in the workshop, a tool rattled in the breeze.
I felt my dad there.
I think he would have been proud.
The house needed work. Five years of Nolan's "maintenance" meant nothing had been maintained.
The roof leaked. The water heater was dying. The workshop was full of Nolan's junk.
I cleaned it out.
I found my dad's old workbench. Under a pile of Nolan's golf clubs.
I found his tools. Still sorted by size. Still perfect.
I found his Timex watch case. Empty. The watch was on my wrist.
I found a box of his old work gloves. Stiff with leather and Freon.
I put them on.
They were too big. But they felt like home.
I started fixing the house myself.
I replaced the water heater. Dad had taught me.
I patched the roof. With Ray's help.
I painted the kitchen cabinets. The same color Dad and I had chosen. Yellow. Like sunshine.
Every day, the house felt more like mine.
Every day, it felt less like Nolan's.
I got a new washing machine. The good one. The kind that never quits mid-cycle.
I did my first load of laundry.
Just my clothes.
No dress shirts. No socks. No underwear that wasn't mine.
I sat on the laundry room floor and cried.
May you like
Not sad tears.
Free tears.
