Childhood Garage

I was lying in bed a few days ago and my mind was doing that thing where it wanders around, looking back on all sorts of things. I started thinking about our old house in Fontana and remembering what it looked like. Then I remembered the garage.

I remember when my brother and I were little, my dad would set us up with wood, a hammer and nails in the garage. He would work on his projects and we would work on ours. I remember wearing ear muffs and feeling special.

I remember feeling like I was creating something, just like dad was. It would be cold in the garage, so we'd wear sweatshirts. Dad had an old sound system he would turn on, loudly playing music from the radio or a cassette tape. It smelled like sawdust most of the time. To this day I love the smell of sawdust. It reminds me a simpler times, of cold evenings spent in the garage with dad.

My dad was also the person in charge of teaching me pre-algebra. I had a desk set up in the garage and we would sit in front of graph paper, textbook open, sharpened pencils in hand. I don't remember what I was taught or how I was taught it, but I remember the lamp that was set up.

Who knows if the way I remember things is the way it actually was. But I think remembering your childhood with a bit of rose colored tint is probably a good thing.

***Side note: I have a job interview next week! I'm already nervous for it! :)