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"I mean it. Everything you do, you do it right."
"You've got to be kidding me. I always screw things up."
Dad watched me work in silence for a while. Plastering was satisfying work. It couldn't be rushed if you wanted the perfect finish.
"Your life hit some speedbumps, son,” he said finally, “but you haven't screwed anything up."
I exhaled sharply. "Dad, I hate to break it to you, but plastering walls isn't exactly my dream."
"I know. You wanted to be an architect."
"Right. Not working myself to the bone, getting covered in callouses and bruises, just to make other people's houses look pretty."
"You want to sit at a desk on your ass making other people’s houses look pretty,” said Dad with a twinkle in his eye. “Sitting on your ass is even worse for your health, you know.” He paused, his expression suddenly serious. “What's stopping you from being an architect now?"
"Are you serious?" I scraped the leftover plaster from the trowel back onto the hawk and looked at Dad. "My entire life is stopping me."
"What about designing and building your own place?"
"I don't have time. The kids—"
"They're growing up, Cole. Life has phases. After your mom passed, before I met Susie, parenting you four was my sole focus."
"I don't know how you did it with the four of us."
"Sheer, bloody-minded determination. Plus, Georgie helped me, bless her." That was Dad's sister. She passed a few years ago, but had been a big part of our childhood. "Honestly, though, I probably felt the same as you feel now. Four might be harder than two, but in the thick of it, it's much the same."
"I can’t even imagine having more kids."
"Point is, when you boys and Ida were older, things got easier. I had more time for me."
I looked with disbelief. "What do you do for yourself?"
"My garden. My relationship with Susie. Hey, did I tell you I'm gonna teach a DIY course at the community center? Susie inspired me."
I looked away from the plaster for a moment, into my father’s happy eyes. “Hey, Dad, that’s great. Might make you feel better about stepping away from building work, too.”
“Who said anything about stepping away from building work?” said Dad with a wink.
“I think your back is the one saying it loudest of all,” I jibed.
"Very funny. My back is quiet as a mouse at the moment. Not even a twinge. By the way, have you heard much from Elara?"
"You been talking to Ethan?"
Dad smiled. "You got me."
I dragged another streak of plaster across the wall. "She's gone, Dad."
"Isn’t she coming back for the council meeting?"
"Maybe, but I'm not going."
I was about to take more plaster onto my hawk, but Dad stepped in and gripped my wrist. "Cole, son, if you don’t seize life with both hands and make the most out of it, you'll end up with regrets."
I grunted. “Bit late for that advice, I think, Dad.”
He shook his head. "Not true. You’re barely getting started with your life. You joined the military, you got married, you had kids. And you learned to be a damn fine builder. Great! That was part one. Do you know what happens in part two?”
