Entering My Private Sanctuary
Sitting still wasn’t helping the restlessness in my chest, so I got up. I navigated through the kitchen and opened the door leading to the cold concrete of the garage.
This space was my sanctuary, filled with the hum of cooling fans and the scent of ozone. While my children thought I was just tinkering with junk, I had spent thousands of hours here.
It was time to check on the equipment that had caused so much contention.