09/07/2026
The thermometer said 104°.
The clock said it was past quitting time.
The truck said the job wasn’t done.
I was tired—and beginning to wonder whether we were going to finish.
Justin looked at me and said, “Have faith.”
Then he went back to work.
Measuring. Placing. Peeling. Pressing. One letter at a time, until our name was where it belonged.
Labor Day brings a lot of talk about hard work. But most hard work looks something like this: hot, late, imperfect—and somebody deciding the job still deserves to be finished well.
Justin wasn’t offering vague optimism. He was saying, “Trust me. I haven’t quit.”
Then he gave me a reason to.
Proud of you, Justin. And proud of every person who stays with the work—and with one another—until it’s done.