I can still remember the creek of the door to my grandfathers workshop. He was long since passed. But I would still go in to his workshop when I visited grandmother during the summer. I’d find some wood, some tools, and some nails. I’d build. Usually I built a battle ship, or a tank. I was never good at it. Never pursued wood working or anything. Most likely this was something I did to stave off boredom. But now that I’m older and think back to it, that memory is so sweet. It was actually time spent with someone who wasn’t there. So when my son says he wants to build something at my workbench. We build. Together. Even if it’s for 5 minutes.