Manny & Me

My dad owns an upholstery shop. From him, I’ve learned how to repair and restore furniture and draperies. He doesn’t know that these are the little things that matter to me.

The sounds of his nail gun go off from outside our home. I quietly walk towards the kitchen door window and watch him as he covers the surface of a naked chair with the colors of beautifully patterned fabrics. 

My dad, the upholsterer, is covered in cotton fuzz and fabric pieces that smell like old books but not quite. His hands are often dry from repairing old furniture pieces- upholstery is the only business he ever owned after arriving in this country. Even though his work is a one-man job he always has a space for me.

He motions for me to come with him and I happily follow. The blue RV hums loudly and it fills me with excitement for the journey we are about to make. 

I open the two giant blue doors that lead to the backseat of the blue RV.

Chair upon chair. Tools scattered everywhere. Long rolls of fabrics standing upright in the car. I make my way to my rightful spot, a seat in the back with a whole window exposing the outside world. 

We take off and make our way to one of his shops. The place where he is himself the most.  

Minute after minute with cars passing by, we glide through the highway. The sky is radiantly blue and the trees fly past us and are never-ending. As we drive towards our destination, bodies of water reveal themselves and start to glimmer. Bridges become taller the closer we get to them.

I know that we are coming near when our car starts to slow down. I rush out of the car doors and race past my dad to the shop entrance. He slowly walks over to open the door and with one push he reveals a part of himself that I don’t often get to see.  

His history, his craft, his hard work covers every inch of the room. This is Manny’s Upholstery. 

Customers and old friends come through his door. The service bell rings and his wrinkled smile lights up the room. From my own work corner, my kingdom of creations and crafts quakes at the sound of his hearty laugh. This is the side my dad always shows and one that almost everyone knows: his kindness, his laughter, his warmth reaches out and never ends. 

He doesn’t know it yet. 

He doesn’t know how much it means to me that he shows what is important to him. 

He doesn’t know that the little things that he does light a fire in me. 

He doesn’t know that I hope to share the warmth he has shown me with others. 

He doesn’t know that these little things matter so much to me. 

 

(Other Illustrations will be uploaded later)