Knots of Love

"Remember, the only size that matters is the size of his tool belt." Marissa threw a sideways glance my way just as her phone beeped. "Thank you for calling sales and support; may I have your customer number?"

Marissa was fifteen years older than me and often shot pointed advice at me from her years of experience.

Her advice landed a little too cleanly as I thought about the door that John built. It was precisely matched to the salmon colored tool shed with brown trim, and suited to fill the wide door-shaped gap that was previously in its place. Only the door never closed properly, and less than a month after John and I broke up, I went outside one day to find it had completely fallen off its hinges.

Poor craftsmanship was the story of my life.

A few years later another coworker, Jack, showed me a photo of the pergola he was building for his wife. I sighed longingly at the picturesque backyard. Later I asked Jack if he would help me install the baseboards in my bathroom. I said to him, "The old ones were cracked and old so I took them out, and then I thought I could put in the new ones myself but I couldn't hammer them in so now they're just sitting there, leaning up against the wall."

"You need a nail gun," he explained, "with an air compressor."

I nodded, "Do you have one of those? Could I maybe borrow it?"

Jack stood up from his cubical to look me in the eye, a disapproving expression on his face, "Let me tell you something about a man and his tools..."

I glared at him as my phone beeped, "Thank you for calling sales and support..."

-----

At the end of 2019 we had just passed the two-year mark together. It wasn't until several weeks past that first declaration of love that I realized just how big his tool belt was.

"I had a friend once who made one of these for his wife; could you make something like this?"

He looked over at my computer screen to see a photo of a pergola pulled up on Google Images.

"Yeah, I can make that," he confirmed.

"What about this one?" I asked. He smiled at me and nodded continuously as I presented photos of floating shelves above garden tubs, large wood framed mirrors leaning against bedroom walls, and even a built-in library, complete with a rolling ladder.

My eyes narrowed suspiciously, "but can you really make these?" I recounted the story of the door John built.

"Is that why there's no door on your tool shed!?" He shook his head laughing, "No, my stuff doesn't fall apart."

The following year was full of projects. He crafted floating shelves, a framed leaning mirror, and a console table that was a perfect replica of one I had seen on Pinterest years before.

A life built with exceptional craftsmanship; it was the story I had always longed for.

On New Year’s Eve, Rachel sent a text to the group, "What are we wearing?" Rachel was always the one to ask what we were wearing. I was always the one to reply, "Pajamas!" This time, however, I replied, "Ball gowns!" and the idea stuck. Our friend group of four was all set to wear ball gowns to ring in 2020 from Rachel's living room.

"Which one are you going to wear?" he asked as I told him of our plans.

"The black one with the gold, but you don't have to wear anything fancy," I assured him.

He nodded, "It's okay, I'll match you."

"I wish I could bring something for everyone... do you think we could find corsages anywhere?" I asked.

He looked at the clock. "It's a little late... but I think I have something."

He disappeared into the garage for several minutes and emerged with a box full of supplies: A pair of scissors, wire, tape, a few tiny bells, and several branches of gold and champagne colored leaves from a long forgotten craft project.

He sat on our bedroom floor and without instructions, went to work. As he twisted and turned the glittery leaves, I waited in anticipation. With agile hands and a familiar tool, he snipped the delicate sprigs one by one and carefully fastened them around a circle of wire, adding in some of the little bells as he went.

When he was finished he stood up to place the crown on my head. "What do you think? Should I make three more?"

It was perfect. An elegant crown of Grecian leaves that chimed with every turn of my head.

It was a very small project compared to his usual woodworking activities and yet, he gave it the same concentration and attention to detail. This craftsmanship defines him and while he is far from boastful, he has a pride in his work that translates to every corner of his life.

The old saying proves true that how you do anything is how you do everything or, I suppose, the only size that matters is the size of his tool belt.