last night, after dinner with the inlaws, i went out to the garage.  i repotted some cilantro, basil and parsley that we started a few weeks back.  by the state of the sprouts, we probably should have repotted them sooner.  but sometimes life gets in the way and we punt.  so i punted.

as i was wrangling the plants, i was reading over my plans for the guitar i'm building.  i wanted to get some sanding done last night.  it's difficult to explain, but when sanding the kerfed linings (the pieces that adhere to the sides of the guitar and to which one attaches the front and back of the instrument) you have to be careful to sand them at relatively accurate angles so that the top and back of the guitar (which are not flat but rather bowed like bowls) everything goes together just so.  that means making a couple of angles, attaching them to a long-ish stick and gluing sandpaper to the non-angled part of the stick.  then you can rest the angle on the guitar and sand the part opposite at the correct angle.  a neat trick, no?  and i have to say that my new bandsaw did wonders for cutting the angles i needed.  how did i live so long without this tool?  quite well, it turns out.  but it's a serious time saver.

i put the plants back on the sill in the living room and got back to the garage.  i began sanding and instinctively thought about my uncle.  i started building my banjo shortly after his death.  everything in my life was falling apart and i didn't honestly know what i was going to do.  my existence was in freefall.  so every night, i would go to the garage and work on the banjo.  i would lean against my portable workbench and sand for hours.  my mind would clear itself and i could give myself enough space from my problems that breathing was possible.  in those days, the only time i didn't feel like i was cracking was when i was listening to the sound of the paper gliding over the wood.

last night as i ran the sanding board over the sides of my guitar-to-be, it occurred to me that it was the third anniversary of my uncle's death.  three years since i'd fallen to the floor.  since the sensation of the final straw cracking the camel's back.  since my epiphany.  i missed him all over again, not that i'd ever really stopped.

i looked out of the garage at a very different world from the one i was in three years ago.  it's truly amazing how far one can go in such a short period of time.  it feels like a lifetime, and for the smallest member of my household, it has been.  for the short time i had last night to work on my little project, i thought about my revolution.  i took stock of what it really meant for me to do what i did.  and i reflected on my happiness.

i'm happy.  very happy.

i thought about him for a good while.  i let myself miss him.  i laughed at a couple of his jokes and thought about what he'd have to say about stacky and about my boy.  he was a good man and a good friend.  they make fewer like him these days.  not nearly enough now that i think of it.

it got late too fast and i knew that stacky was in need of an assist with the dude so i packed it all up as quickly as i could.  i swept my sawdust out into the driveway and headed inside to my family.