Plywood

An man came to see me May 24, a former neighbor in his sixties who taught me a lot about working on houses. He helped with this house.

"Thanks for teaching me how to work on a house," I said.

"You were good," he said.

I cried after he left, not lability stuff, but genuine. I miss being that healthy and strong that I could rip up a bunch of plywood and build a set of steps in a weekend.

Later that day my son 'helped' our handyman 'carry' lumber. That should be me on the other end of the 2 by 4. That should be me! That should be me! That should be me!