Gemotions

The workshop hummed with the familiar scent of sawdust and linseed oil. Liam slapped his hands together, the sound echoing in the high-ceilinged room. He felt a buzz under his skin, a restless energy that made it difficult to stand still. Across the workbench, his daughter, Maya, barely ten years old, meticulously sanded a small wooden birdhouse. He’d taught her the basics, showed her how to measure and cut, how to avoid splinters. Now, she was far surpassing him.

“Almost done with the roof, Dad!” Maya chirped, her voice bright with a passion that surprised him. He grinned. He remembered when he was a boy, building little boats, and wishing he had someone to show him the right way.

He’d always loved woodworking, the smell of the wood, the feeling of transforming raw material into something beautiful. Maya now seemed to feel that too, and that made his chest feel full. He leaned against the workbench, the vibrations of her sanding echoing through his own arms, and nodded, wanting to see her triumph.