Day 11: The White Dresser

My father, being a Chief Engineer in the Military Sea-lift Command for nearly three decades, is always fixing something. Growing up, I remember that even when he was at home and not at sea working, he was being the handy-man around the house. Now that he has retired, he has even more time to work on his various projects. And it's amazing how creative he is. Currently he is selling old/recycled furniture that he re-purposes/up-cycles himself! Furthermore, everyone within our community knows that he is the guy to call whenever they need help with anything. I am really proud of my dad and his giving nature.

Although he gives much of himself, he rarely, if ever, asks for help. He is very modest and self-reliant. So when he does for help, I consider it a privilege to do so. I wish he would ask for it more.

Today he asked my boyfriend and me to paint a second coat on one of the huge wooden dressers and elaborately designed drawers. One of our family's old time friends was going to give it away without a second thought, and was happy to hear that my dad would be glad to take it off her hands.

I wasn't feeling well when I woke up this morning. I was experiencing a numbing sensation in my head that was similar to what I remembered feeling when I first started taking the anti-depressant prescribed by the doctor I saw in the ER. Only this time, it was stronger. I began to panic, texted my counselor, who called me back and advised me to call my regular doctor. She suspects that my dosage is too high. Until my appointment on Monday, I will probably have to deal with this heavy, numbing sensation, which also makes me drowsy and disoriented. I had other plans for the day, but dishearteningly decided that I needed to rest instead.

However, when I was outside painting the dresser with my boyfriend and my father, I felt loads better. I even stayed behind (despite the freezing cold weather!) to do touch-ups and finish my boyfriend's half. He was in a rush because he had really been excited about watching a tournament that was streaming online today and didn't want to miss it. Knowing that it meant a lot to him to be able to watch this (they don't come around that often), I told him he could go ahead and get back inside to watch the games. (:

After the paint was finished, my father put it together and added the brass handles, which really made the whole thing work. A little polish, a little shine, and it really looks grand! To think this marvelous piece of furniture was going to be tossed away for scraps. My father is responsible for having the creative genius to see (and seize) this and many more opportunities to make something work or work better.

He is an inspiration. (: Often, throughout my life, I have wished to be more like my dad. I am not only grateful to have him as a father, but also to know that people of great character, integrity, dedication, and hard-work like him exist in the world. I like to think that I inherited his generous and helpful spirit, but to be his daughter has been a privilege all its own.