Last Wednesday, we finished a project, one we’d been on
since...
Last Wednesday, we finished a project, one we’d been on
since November. It always feels like some strange triumph. In the beginnings,
it never feels possible, as if the work will never be finished. But of course
it is. Day by day the place is improved, in the slow accumulation of efforts,
and we learn a thing or two, and feel proud of what we’ve done.
We took out the kitchen, removed the back of the house,
added columns and beams to support new weight, extended the space a little over
four feet, roofed it, closed it in, built a new kitchen, made it feel like home
again. We have a little bit of a deck to finish up, but that waits until the
ground unfreezes.
The final day involved the attendant relief and excitement
(look, look, it’s amazing, it’s done!),
and a little bit of sadness, too. It was a funny pleasure arriving at this
small home every morning, having the two young boys show us their Legos,
introduce us to their stuffed animals, to fill nail holes in crown molding and
hear them singing Beatles songs from the other room. It was just a nice place
to be. I look forward to the thaw that will bring us back there.
With the end of that job, M. and I will take a short hiatus
from the carpentry, a few weeks off. I’m starting work on a new writing project. I feel momentum
for it, focus and drive. It’s been a long time since I’ve been in just writing
mode. I am thinking about beginnings and endings. I am thinking about the way
impossible things can, over time, with effort, start to feel possible again.
