Mr.Brightside

Chapter 39

 Jack's Turning Point

The weekend after our family trip to the zoo, something shifted in me again. Maybe it was seeing Clara so confident and at ease with her work, or maybe it was the way Olivia's laughter echoed in my ears when we were together. But for the first time in months, I realized how much I'd missed that feeling of being fully engaged, not just in life, but in something bigger—something I was passionate about.

I still didn't know exactly what that "something" was, but I felt closer to it. The restlessness that had nagged at me since I turned down the promotion was starting to fade, replaced by a quiet curiosity.

I needed to explore that feeling.

The Workshop Idea

One morning, while Clara was busy in her studio and Olivia was at preschool, I found myself browsing online—something I rarely did anymore. I wasn't sure what I was looking for, but I stumbled across a video about a local woodworking workshop.

I'd always loved working with my hands, and back in college, I used to build furniture as a hobby. It was something I'd set aside once life got busy with a career, marriage, and fatherhood. But watching that video stirred something in me. The idea of creating again, of working with wood, of designing and building—it excited me in a way I hadn't expected.

Without overthinking it, I signed up for the workshop. It was a beginner class on the weekends—nothing too intense—but it felt like the right step.

The First Class

The following Saturday, I showed up to the woodworking studio feeling a bit out of place. It was a small group, mostly people in their fifties or sixties who were picking up new hobbies. But the moment I walked into the workshop, the smell of sawdust and fresh wood hit me, and I felt at home.

The instructor, a burly guy named Greg, welcomed everyone and quickly set us up at individual workstations. The first project was simple—building a small bookshelf. But even as I listened to Greg explain the basics of cutting and assembling, I could feel that spark inside me growing. It had been years since I'd worked on anything like this, but it came back to me quickly, like riding a bike.

As I picked up the tools, measuring and cutting the wood, the noise in my head—the endless thinking about work, about what I should be doing—faded. There was only the task in front of me, the feeling of the wood beneath my hands, the satisfaction of creating something tangible.

By the end of the class, I had the frame of a small bookshelf. It wasn't perfect, but it was mine. And it felt damn good.

Telling Clara

When I got home later that afternoon, Clara was in the kitchen, making lunch. She glanced up as I walked in, her smile warm and curious.

"How was it?" she asked.

I set my bag down and leaned against the counter. "It was great. I didn't realize how much I'd missed it—working with my hands."

Clara's smile widened. "I'm glad. You seemed really excited about it this morning."

"I was," I admitted. "It felt... good. Like I was doing something for me, you know?"

"I know exactly what you mean," she said, handing me a cutting board. "It's how I feel every time I'm in the studio."

As we worked side by side, chopping vegetables and talking about our day, I realized something: this was what I'd been missing. Not just the woodworking, but the sense of balance. The feeling that there was more to life than just work. Clara had found her outlet in art, and now, I was finding mine.

A New Routine

Over the next few weeks, I fell into a new rhythm. I still worked my regular job during the week, but on weekends, I went to the workshop. It became my space—a place where I could lose myself in the creative process, where I didn't have to think about deadlines or career paths.

Clara noticed the change in me almost immediately. "You're happier," she said one evening as we sat on the couch after Olivia had gone to bed.

"I am," I agreed, surprised by how true it felt. "I didn't realize how much I needed this."

She rested her head on my shoulder. "It's nice seeing you like this. More relaxed. More you."

I kissed the top of her head, feeling a deep sense of gratitude. "I feel more like me too."

A Conversation with My Boss

One day, about a month into the woodworking classes, my boss called me into his office. I'd been doing my job, but I knew he could tell something had shifted in me.

"Jack," he began, leaning back in his chair. "I've noticed you've been a little different lately. Not in a bad way, just... more laid back."

I smiled, nodding. "Yeah, I've been working on finding some balance. I've taken up woodworking again."

He raised an eyebrow. "Woodworking?"

I chuckled. "Yeah, it's something I used to do a long time ago. It's been nice, having a creative outlet outside of work."

He paused, considering my words. "That's good to hear. It's important to have that. I've been meaning to ask—are you still thinking about that promotion?"

I hesitated for a moment, but then I shook my head. "No. I've decided it's not the right move for me. I'm happy where I am right now."

He didn't seem surprised. If anything, he looked relieved. "I figured you'd say that. You're a good fit where you are, Jack. And for what it's worth, I think you're making the right decision."

Hearing that from him—a man who had always valued ambition and success above all else—was more validating than I expected. For the first time in a long time, I felt like I was exactly where I needed to be.

Moving Forward

As the weeks went by, the woodworking became more than just a hobby—it became a passion. I started making pieces for the house, small things at first, but soon I was designing more intricate projects. Clara was my biggest fan, always encouraging me, always excited to see what I'd make next.

One evening, after Olivia had gone to bed, Clara and I sat in the living room, admiring a new coffee table I'd just finished.

"You've got a real talent for this," Clara said, running her hand over the smooth wood.

I shrugged, feeling a little bashful. "It's just something I love doing."

She looked at me thoughtfully. "Have you thought about doing more with it? Maybe taking on some commissions or selling your work?"

The idea had crossed my mind, but I hadn't seriously considered it. "I don't know. I'm just enjoying it for now."

"Well," she said, smiling. "Whatever you decide, I'll support you."

And that was enough for me. For now, I was content—content with my life, with my family, with the balance I was finally finding. I didn't need to have all the answers right away.

I just needed to keep moving forward, one project at a time.

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