| I hired
a carpenter to help me restore an old farmhouse.
He had just finished a rough first day on the job:
a flat tire made him lose an hour of work, the
electric saw quit and now his ancient pickup
refused to start. While I drove him home, he sat
in stony silence. On arriving, he invited me to
meet his family.
As we walked toward
the front door, he paused briefly at a small tree,
touching the tips of the branches with both hands.
When opening the
door he underwent an amazing transformation. His
tanned face was wreathed in smiles and he hugged
his two small children and gave his wife a kiss.
Afterwards he
walked me to the car. We passed the tree and my
curiosity got the better of me. I asked him about
what I had seen him do earlier.
"Oh, that's my
trouble tree," he replied. "I know I
can't help having troubles on the job, but one
thing's for sure, troubles don't belong in the
house with my wife and the children. So I just
hang them up on the tree every night when I come
home. Then in the morning I pick them up
again."
"Funny thing
is," he smiled, " when I come out in the
morning to pick "em up, there ain't nearly as
many as I remember hanging up the night
before."
Author unknown |
