I made a crooked bowl with my granddaughter and refused to fix it

Dear Delyara, I retired after forty-five years as a mechanic. My hands are good at tools, measurements, things that should fit. My granddaughter convinced me to take a pottery class with her. I hated the first session. Clay does not behave like metal. My bowls leaned. Her bowls leaned worse. Today, we finished glazing one we made together. One side is taller, the rim is uneven, and there is a thumb dent because she poked it after I told her not to. My instinct was to correct everything. She said, “Grandpa, leave it weird.” So I did. We brought it home and put oranges inside. Hobbies are teaching me something work never did: an object can be useful without being precise. My granddaughter signed both our names on the bottom. I keep turning the bowl over to look. Forty-five years of fixing things, and apparently retirement wants me to practice loving one that does not need repair.