Those insignificant things you found, well, very significant as a child...

That shrill, ear-piercing noise. Then the smell. It's not a bad smell, but a very distinct smell. The smell of burning metal. Rounding the corner to the side of the house, you then see the sparks. Long, lazy orange sparks. They're almost mesmerizing. And finally the mask. That bulky mask with the little square window in front. 

Welding. It's something my father is a master at. He no longer is required to weld but the talent is still there, though my father will protest that he's lost some of his 'touch' as he's grown older. His welding on weekends or after his return home from work are some of my most vivid childhood memories. I'm not sure why. Maybe it's because I was not aware of any other father in the surrounding neighborhood who welded...he was the only one, or so it seemed anyway. Or perhaps, as a child, I was merely intrigued by the mask which, in my mind, reminded me of the old metal scuba diving helmets. I recall standing a little too close when watching and being licked by the sparks...I can still picture myself looking down and seeing some of those long orange sparks bouncing onto the toe of my shoe. 

It's a memory I remember as it were yesterday. A very special memory for me. I knew it was something that took great skill, so I usually watched not only out of curiosity but also with pride. Plus, he always smelled like a mechanic afterwards. I loved this then and I love it now. It's odd, I know. But when you hold a love for your dad as I do, you even love him when he's smelling like motor oil.