Pen poised above the paper. Ingredients waiting by the mixing bowl. The first loop of a yarn onto a needle or hook. Wet paint on a brush. A shovel making a fresh slice into the ground. The revving of a saw or the curated collection of wood and screws. Notes emanating from an instrument.
But why? Why create? Why do you make?
This cabinet is my reminder:
Holding our daily school books and crafting supplies, it stands unassuming in the corner. Tall, dark, and quiet. To some, it may appear to lack some refinement or class. Because of that door. That one cupboard door that doesn't match the others. Unlike the weathered and aged finish of the rest of the cabinet, it is stripped to the raw wood, and once again aged with time.
The story of that door goes back. Probably long before where I'll start, but for me the story starts here:
I never met my grandfather. I hear stories of how he was a bus driver, a farmer. In 5th grade, my dad lost his dad to cancer. When he was diagnosed, my grandfather picked up this cabinet as a project to refinish while he underwent treatments. To this day, you can see exactly where he started.
I have no intention to go any further than that door. As long as I own this cupboard, this is how it will look. That door, representing hope and potential and life, speaks a constant reminder to me.
There it is, the quiet reminder to use the life and the time I have to better what and who is around me. It gives a subtle nudge to keep on going. Through projects, through food, through letters,
through cabinet refinishing,
through a smile or a quiet hug, and always in love, believe that better things are possible. That's the story of the cupboard door.
It reminds me that there is hope. Even if life passes on this earth, there is still Hope.
I have the opportunity to help spread that Hope, both now and for the generations to come.
That's why. That's why I make.
Always be creative,