Photo Source: Unsplash The Summers   Working with the wood my father always had the stub of a pencil behind his ear   yet it never stayed behind mine slipping, falling being replaced over and over as we made skateboards from the wheels of old roller-skates and sheets of plywood   the skateboards were okay, did the job, but the joy was in the making   yesterday, standing in his workshop I took a breath a deep breath held it as long as I could summer sawdust, him   roller-skates long gone...