That’s Amore

For the past week or so my father has spent quite a bit of time with the Maker. They have endlessly discussed the Maker’s Army canteen, his favorite purchase at a yard sale last week. Papa gave him a braided belt as an improvised sling for it, and a camouflage cap to wear to match it, and emblazoned everything with the Maker’s name in sharpie marker. These items might as well have been super-glued to the Maker for all the time he’s been separated from them. “Papa knows everything,” he announced dreamily one night.

Today he came home from Papa’s house with yet another prize: a slightly faded, somewhat stained red shop rag. The Maker showed me how it was to be folded, then tucked neatly over his hip in the waistband of his pants. He’s so happily besotted that tonight after his bath he eschewed the fresh clean towel I put out for him, and dried himself instead with the shop rag.

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