I was able to get through half a comic book in the bathroom before I heard my youngest son , Jacob, outside the door saying " Dad, when you get done and come out, I have something to ask you".
Spiderman had just started winning an epic battle between himself and Venom. Fifteen or so, pages left...
Now I knew two things. One was that Jake wanted to work on building a skateboard. I knew this from a conversation we had yesterday about it. I was cooking dinner and he asked if I had time for him, to help him build a skateboard that he desperately wanted. I told him that it was not a good time, but that maybe tomorrow, after work, we could...
He had responded so patiently yesterday. Typical Jacob, in a good natured and happy mood.
" O.K. dad. You finish your cooking and we'll do it tomorrow".
Then he scampered off.
In knowing this, I also knew there are not that many times that are "good timing" for this. My body, recently, has not been the most comfortable place to inhabit. Nothing serious, just a couple stages past " rode hard and put up wet"...
I wanted to stretch out. I wanted a few moments reprieve from an uncomfortable body.
I wanted to finish my comic book....
Those were the first things I knew. The second thing I knew was how the comic book ended. I'd read it twenty or so times before , along with the four other comics that populated the bathroom basket.
Needless to say, I was soon outside with my youngest boy, tearing apart a dilapidated donor board and walking him thru the planning, set up and centering, drilling, countersinking, cutting, sanding and eventual bolting of wheels to a newly fabricated board...
He did a great job. At every step I either asked him how to figure out placement or explained to him WHY we did things the way we did. He was hands on. HE drilled the mounting holes and counter sunk them to the correct depth. He put the bolts thru the holes and started threading the nuts on... He learned what " Cross threading" was, and how to carefully start the nuts, patiently.
I let him know that that is often the difference between a good mechanic and bad, a lack of patience and care, during the process...
A page out of " Zen and the art of motorcycle maintenance"...
The coolest thing about this whole deal was seeing his face.
It was not the jovial joker or the immature act he sometimes has. He payed attention at every step, asked questions and even anticipated the next action, and brought the parts over, without being asked or directed...
I was impressed.
He was proud and happy.
Me too...
I watched him ride it down our driveway, back and forth. She certainly was a sweet ride...
It really was inconvenient, this collection of moments, in it's timing. The funny thing is that most of the really good times with those we love, usually start that way. Sometimes, they end that way, too. On rare occasion , they seem to be that way the entire way through..
But they are GOOD moments. They are the stuff between the overlooked ordinary, interspersed randomly but not neccasarily rarely, in our lives.
They are as rare as we give them the opportunity to be.
I am blessed that I haven't updated my comic collection in a long time.
I wouldn't have wanted to have missed this, today....
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