The True Face of the Workshop
The next day, I found an old poster stuck to the workshop door. “South Congress Community Workshop.” Harold had apparently volunteered for years, teaching DIY skills to locals. “It’s been on hold since the pandemic,” he shrugged. “But maybe it’s just the sign that’s stuck.”
On Saturday, he invited a few neighborhood kids over. How to hammer nails, how to read a ruler, the order for cleaning up. I helped too. I realized I loved the moment when little hands became serious. Each time I said, “You did it well,” their little chests puffed out. My voice, too, became one that straightened their backs just a little.
