Two Worlds

It is always amazing to me, how different lives....different generations come together. How you may sit on the same bench at the park that your grandfather sat on when he was a young man. How you wear a coat that your father wore in his younger years because it is back in style, doing the same things he did, just in your own way.

Today Ella was in the bathroom and wanted to wash her hands. She pulled the stool out and stepped on it to reach the faucet, which was still quite a reach. I watched as she stood on her tiptoes, reaching for every inch.

I made this turtle stool in high school. I was never good at woodworking. I needed to fill a class. It wasn’t really my thing. I remember making the stool though. I remember bringing it home, half embarrassed by it, half proud that I was even capable of making it. I distinctly remember sanding the top of it. I remember rubbing my hands over the top, unable to comprehend that, one day, I may have kids. Kids that might stand on this stool that I was making. To me, it was just an easy grade to boost my GPA.

I brought it home and put it in my room. I left for the Army and it stayed in my room. Eventually it made it’s way through life with me. I don’t know why. It isn’t pretty. It isn’t really all that great. By all rights, it should have been thrown away 20 years ago. But it wasn’t. It has now found it’s way into the girls bathroom, where it has been used by all of them. It has become special to them. One day, 20 years from now, my grandkids will be standing on this stool.

This homely little stool that I made in high school twenty some years ago for an easy grade.

Two worlds came together in an insignificant moment for most people. Luckily, I was there to see it. To appreciate it. To capture it forever.

A homely little stool......