“Why can’t Mom be proud of me?”
“She doesn’t understand what you do, kiddo.”
“And you do?”
“Of course. You make something out of nothing. That’s a gift.”
I’m thinking about her future.
By twenty-eight, I owned a successful furniture restoration business.
“When are you getting a respectable job?” Mom asked one evening.
“I already have one.”
“Making tables?”
“Linda,” Dad warned.
You make something out of nothing.
“It’s fine, Dad.”
Later, he pulled me aside. “Why do you let her talk to you like that?”
“It’s easier than arguing.”
“Easier for whom?”
I couldn’t answer.
A successful furniture restoration business.
Dad never pushed me. He just helped with orders and dreamed about our future projects.
“One day, kiddo, we’ll turn that old barn at the country house into a proper workshop.”
“With two workbenches?”
“Three. I’m not sharing my tools.”
“And who’s paying for all that?”
It’s easier than arguing.
