Why dirty hands equal a happy heart

Tonight, my hands are stained with grease, my clothes are littered with dust, and my hair is a frizzy mess. I'm hardly fazed by my appearance, though.  Underneath the dirty nails and wet boots, my heart beats proudly. For a short time tonight, I stopped worrying about college financial aid and dropped whatever else has been demanding my attention. We had our tiny town vol Fire department meeting tonight, something to that happens once a month, and I joyfully count the days on the calendar.
I bring my hopes and ideas to these meetings; tucked away under a ponytail and a shy smile. If I'm dirty, it means I'm DOING. Not seeing, wishing, or trying. I've wished and watched from afar for too long. I take in the rumbling engines and the tables littered with papers, and smile. I've never wanted anything else. Underneath the flashing lights, I have found my happy place.
So when the front door swings open at close to midnight, a thousand things running through my mind; and I can't seem to find my inside voice, it's not gossip to that's burning on my tongue.
It's joy.