Months passed, and my workshop prospered, giving me more opportunities to spend time with my family.
One evening, Sophie sat beside me.
“Dad, do you ever regret having seven kids?”
“Only when someone eats my last slice of pizza.”
She laughed.
“Seriously?”
“Never, sweetheart.”
She ran her fingers over the desk I’d restored for her birthday.
“Mom said we deserved better.”
“And what do you think?”
Sophie smiled.
“I think we already had it.”
I’d devoted my career to restoring damaged things. Yet I’d come to understand that not everything deserved another chance.
And the family we’d created together had never needed repairing in the first place.
