Children’s music was blaring on the record player in the converted garage. I was in the back closet working on a woodworking project. At one point, I looked up and saw three little faces watching me work. At the time my daughters ranged in age from 8 to 2. The converted two car garage was their dedicated play room and was full of toys of all descriptions.
“What’cha doing, dad?” they asked.
“Just some project, girls.” I replied. But deep inside I knew the project was just a time filler. Beginning when I was seven or eight years old, I found my leisure in the workshop. As an adult, I continued to create working spaces so I could pursue woodworking projects. But now things were different. It took the three little faces in the doorway to jolt me back into reality. What was really important at the time was family, especially these precious little girls. I knew their individual childhoods would pass in a blinding flash and they would not be mine for long.
So I halted all projects and packed up my tools, vowing not to unpack them until the youngest turned 18. I had a small rolling toolbox with a cabinet and drawers. It became the repository for my repair tools. Everything else was packed away in two large metal chests of naval origin. It was time to redirect my free time and spend it with my daughters.
So I took a sixteen year hiatus from woodworking as I pursued family time. It was an outstanding decision because those years passed quickly. I never regretted the missed project time. Soon after the tools were put away, I was separated from the girls by a divorce. When we had weekends together, we spent the time just hanging out–eating food, watching tv and just being with each other. My sole woodworking project during that time was building a dollhouse for the youngest.
Years passed, we all grew older and the day came for me to unbox my tools and create a new work area. I opened the chests that had been closed for sixteen years and was greeted by my old tool friends. One of my first projects was assembling a set of pipe clamps from a set of fixtures I purchased long ago at Sears. The package was almost twenty years old but the fixtures were still bright red. Every time I see those clamps I think of the sixteen year gap and remember how precious it was. Time, as a thing, can be sipped and enjoyed or quaffed and squandered. The secret is to make your minutes count.