This week, I breathed in the dust of our fathers: my friend’s dad’s shelves from his workshop, my dad’s tools in his workshop.

Father connections can be complex. Nuanced. The love can run deep, and the emotions can run hot.

I’ve been breathing the love as I use recycled wood to make bluebird birdhouses. Yesterday I worked with dad. Today I was on my own. There are still twenty whole digits on our hands between us. (We’re okay, Mom.)

As I cut and sanded the wood from shelves that held decades of the collections of my friend’s dad, who died in 2019, I understood he was in the dust I was making and breathing. I also knew my dad, who has shed many skin cells in his workshop, was in the mix.

When I asked dad to help me with the birdhouses, he said, “I’ll go ahead and cut out all the pieces.”

“No, Dad. I want to do this together.”

I’d wag a finger, but we’re not undifferent. Sometimes we see things as task and just do it, forgetting the merit and joy of collaboration.

This week I feel the joy of our fathers as I make my little bluebird birdhouses. I’m grateful for the gifts they bring to their workshops.

©Pennie Nichols. All Rights Reserved. 2025