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bang… Bang… BANG. That noise was so common in the garage. The fresh smell of cut wood surrounded us. Days like this were what my memories were built from. We would stay out in that garage for hours just tinkering around. That was what he was good at, tinkering. On this particular day we were building miniature houses to hang for the birds. “Ok Dutch hold these two pieces of wood like this, and I’ll hammer them together.”

“You’re going to hit my fingers!”

“No I won’t trust me.”

This was always easier said than done. He was great with his hand, really he was, but he could not protect my little hands with his other because he had no physical use of it. I tried to trust him I did but then I flinched as the hammer came closer to my small hands, suddenly I felt immense pain in three of my fingers. I started crying. He quickly dropped the hammer and took me up in his embrace. I felt safe again and soon stopped crying. As he handed me the hammer he said, “I’m sorry Dutch. How bout you hammer the rest.” This was a first experience for me. I was so excited.
Once we built the house, painted it, and let it dry, we decided to hang it. I walked out of the garage and quickly found where we should hang it. I pointed up and said, “There.” He walked over and handed me the house, I was very confused he always had to hang them, I was too small.

“You get to hang this one, I’ll lift you up so you can reach.”

“Ok Papa!” I was thrilled. This was a day of firsts for my dad and me.