The first time it was the upstairs bathroom door.

Our niece had accidently locked herself in. No fault of hers. It’s the way the place was built. Badly. There was no other option. She was screaming.I raised my foot aimed and BAM! 

Replacing a door? Hanging it just right? Way beyond me. Couldn’t even do it. Couldn’t even come close. I have a friend who can. So I asked him to come over and help me out.

“Basically,” he told me. “There are at least half a dozen ways to fuck something up when you try to hang a door.”

So he did it. Both him and the guy he works with. Took them awhile. Wasn’t even easy for them. 

Then this morning running out of the house I stick the key in the lock of the garage and it twirls around as if the workings of the lock were jello.

Door stayed shut. No other way to get in. And this time I was in a suit, scrambling off to a meeting that could mean money. So once again. Up goes the foot and BAM! Out crumbles the lock housing clanking on the garage floor. 

Replacing a lock? Also way beyond my skill set. Never done it in my life. No way could I do that. Going to buy it at the hardware store I could handle. But that was it. I’d have to be making that whining little plea of “help me” A call I really didn’t want to make. 

So this afternoonI walk into the hardware store and saw him right away. Didn’t see his bright eyed lovely wife right away. But I saw him. The Moon Man.

Guy that used to be the greeter at the church. But doesn’t come around much anymore.

He’s finishing up at the register, I finally see Sherry, his wife. And as I hug her hello I say, “So I guess your husband was right about one or two things. We’re not going too often anymore either.”

I told him we had been back once since Easter. And that was nice. People remembered us. But the next week there was a wedding. And the week after that was a service just for people who had kids.

“Just for people who had kids???”  

No, not really. That’s just how it came across. It wasn't the intent.

And Maria had to work that Sunday anyway. 

So we stood and talked at the front of the hardware store. And it felt like I was in church again. Right there. In the hardware store. I was back in church again. And there he was. Welcoming the world into this sunshine, golden autumn afternoon. Only thing missing ws the hymns.

 I walked home down Grace. Went back to my garage. And installed the lock on my own. As if I was some kind of Mr Freaking Fixit or something. Like maybe, (Moon Man is a general contractor,) I had picked up some sort of hidden talent just by shaking hands with the guy. 

Spreading out the tiny screws, the dizzying number of pieces, the screw driver, the drill. Thinking, “Wait a minute here cowboy. First thing you found out when you worked for Trollope Consulting was that “Strategic” was one of your top five strengths. And they scored you in the top 2% of the human population. (Yes, they do have that many numbers. And yes that is scary)  

Is there really any reason why you can’t do this? 

 Especially now.

After just having attended church? 

The painting in the picture was done by a guy who lived in a log cabin down the street from where my Mom lived when she and my Dad were first dating.  

The artist’s name is Ivan Albright and his painting is called, “That Which I Should Have Done, I Did Not Do.”

It’s at the Chicago Art Institute if you ever want to take a peek. I’ve been looking at it since I was about 18.

A long time. 

And I thought of this painting as I put the key in the brand new golden lock of my garage. 

The lock I installed on my own.

Sort of.