Yesterday, I mentioned buying an old mallet – with a do-it -yourself repair – at a rummage sale. This morning I found a warm, charming and extremely well-written story in the comment left by Pottermom:
I understand the mallet. As I was helping clean out the upstairs of the family machine shop before the ranch sold I came upon a hoe. It was just a short hand hoe, rusty, kind of wobbly with the name Ted carved in the handle. It had been left and forgotten for years, a remnant from when the ranch was a vegetable farm back in the 1930s. Ted resides in my garage now and helps me on a regular basis in my garden. I like Ted. Old and wobbly, nicked and scarred. He fits me.
I have read it several times, drawn by the rhythm of the words and the smile those words bring forth.