My dad

My father passed away last summer, and it still feels surreal. Sometimes, I catch myself thinking I can just pick up the phone and call him. In those imagined conversations, he’d tell me everything is fine, that there is nothing new, then mention something he read about Amsterdam’s housing market. He’d always praise my timing in buying my apartment when prices were low.

That same apartment he helped me move into, with an embarrassingly large truck for a single person’s belongings. But that truck was filled with years of accumulated possessions, including five boxes of audio and video cables. Every man has a box like that, right? Well, I ended up with five. It’s a trait I inherited from my father — this need to hold onto cables, parts, and tools.

Ah, the tools. No man has ever uttered the phrase “I have enough tools” in his adult life. This thought brings me to our current task: clearing out my father’s two sheds full of tools and spare parts. Two sheds, because no father of mine would ever settle for just one during his lifetime.

Now it’s time to consolidate.

One shed. One toolbox. Happy Father’s Day.