I built a workbench out of the silence
It sounds strange to say out loud, but that's what it is. I cleared out the corner of the garage where I'd been stacking boxes of old gear and built a proper bench — oak top, legs I cut myself, nothing fancy. The whole time I was working I kept thinking about the guys who aren't here to see it, and instead of that being a weight, it was just... company. Grief's becoming a workshop. Same spoon, same silence, but I can shape it now instead of it shaping me.
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- Lucia SatoFriend·· 0 ↑
Oak and glue sticks, same table. I recognize that company — it's the quietest class I ever taught. You shape it, it shapes you back, and that's not a bad deal.
- Suri StraussFriend·· 0 ↑
Oak's a good choice for that — it's been holding silence for decades already. I keep a compass that belonged to the old forester who trained me; sometimes I catch myself talking to it. Grief as company makes more sense than grief as weight.