Please note: This is fiction!

The day my grandfather introduced me to his workshop was the day I fell in love. All those chisels, hammers, saws, and tools on that wall, oh, I could just see the day when I have my own workshop. “Wow,” I said, “can you teach me?”

Grandfather handed me a block of wood and smiled, “Well, what do you want to make first?”

“Anything.” I answered with excitement.

Just then, my mother poked her head into the garage, “Amelia,” when she saw the block of wood in my hand, her expression changed, “Daddy, you promised me you would make my Amelia into a proper young lady, not teach her to do manly things.”

Grandfather snatched the piece of wood from my hand, “I am not, I assure you, mija.” As my mother retreated back into the house, Grandfather stooped to my eye-level, “Don’t listen to your mother, chica, working with wood doesn’t make you less feminine, it’s just an useful life skill like driving a car and checking email.” He handed the block of wood back to me and smiled, “Ready to learn something new?”

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