Here’s, an “heirloom”, left by her father, translated…
There was a cart in mom’s place, it was the one my father made himself, by hand, with the wooden boards and the nails.
My dad is a hardworking, good man, treated his wife and children very gently and kindly, and when he didn’t have anything to do, he’d also, helped fixed the meals for the family too.
Recalling how when I was back in high school, my first homework for my home ec class was to hand sewn a school bag, and we’re only to take this bag we’d made to school, that we won’t be allowed to have any other kind of backpack to use. But, I’d worried about my fingers may get sewn in, by the small needle and thread that flew too fast in the spinning wheels, I’d started worrying.
something like this, but not made by machine, photo from online…
As I arrived home, I’d told my dad that I may not be able to produce the assignment for my home ec course; out of my expectations, my dad immediately lifted the lid off the sewing machines, and, in no more than a few short minutes, he’d, managed, to sew up the school bag for me. It’d made me happy, and stressed, happy because, my dad helped me tackled this hard-as-hell assignment, and I was stressed, because my father used a blue thread, it’d looked very out of place on my red school bag, I worried, that from one look, my home ec instructor could tell, that I didn’t, make it!
Although a cart didn’t cost that much, but dad liked the handiwork, other than the four stainless-steel wheels he’d bought from the hardware stores, everything else needed, he’d got from home, or, picked up from somewhere. As my father made this cart, he’d not just taken into account the ergonomics, the balance of the cart carrying the cargoes or people, he was also, keen on the details too, so, even ten years later, to this very day, it was still, used, and it’d helped mom carry the fertilizers, or the vegetables.
what it’s, used for, photo from online still…
Recently, there were a few rusty nails on the cart, and mom worried that it may damage the cart, and asked my son and my husband to help patch up the loosened nail.
As they were fixing up the cart, mom was standing close by, kept commending how handy my dad was before, how intelligent he was, how kind he treated everybody, how hardworking he was………as she’d spoken, her voice became muffled, tears were, coming down, and I know, that she was, missing dad again.
It’d been seven years since my dad passed, and we’d, missed him every single day. We will fix up the cart really well, so mom can keep on, pushing it, like how dad is right by her side.
So, this cart became, a sort of an heirloom, and the father didn’t just pass this push cart down to the loved ones, but also, the values of hard work, how he’d taken care of his own family, how much he loved them too, and the mother and daughter will, keep him in their minds.