Jed and I bought a simple little house so many years ago. Salt box looking with a lovely touch of wind and breeze, picket fences and laughter. I was so happy, a dream house, old and needing some love touches.
And then we built the deck. We, is a bit of a stretch, but I did carry water and find tools. We had a view, and Jed wanted to live in it. We had boards and concrete and nails and every kind of metal building attachment that Home Depot could provide. All this we had for what seemed like years. Jed loved a good job. He just loved working on a project. Jed was never very concerned about finishing a good job. He'd always tell Reg, "You don't want to kill a good job!" They would laugh and drink a beer while studying the next phase of the project and I would cringe. I, naturally, really wanted this "good job" to get finished. Silly me.
Memories pick and choose. I pick the amazing joy I got from decorating the deck. I would hose it, and clean it, and move furniture and hang plants...oh, what relaxing fun. And, how wonderful that he finally finished the deck and started on the porch and bathroom. Me, I just walked around on the sturdy dream and felt happy.
Fireworks, friends, children, oh, the children...Oh how the deck became an extension of who we were. We were the ones with the amazing deck with the sky rocketing view. We were the ones who loved to share it with our friends and family. Graduation parties, wedding receptions, good ole beer fests, homemade ice cream on 4th of July...the deck gathered us all for what our hearts needed.
But then Jed fell. He fell so hard that he broke the spirit of the deck. Years went by and no one even walked on it's boards. It was left to the raccoons and squirrels. The spa grew a foot of crud, the boards warped and creaked. The tree branches threatened a final deck death.
But, deck death will not be a near future reality. It is being resurrected. The dead boards are gone. New boards assure longevity. And paint. Heavy duty paint, along with hundreds of plants and piles and piles of well placed dirt are singing the happy deck song.
After Jed died I decided to have a two year plan. Home, business, body. Get them fixed up. So, I'm fixing up the deck. It feels like a memorial to Jed and that is what I need. Of all the things we did together that were so filled with joy, the deck stands out among them all as quite remarkable. There's a lot I cannot do. I cannot bring him back or start over with him. But I can bring the deck back to life and even though it's not totally satisfying, it feels remarkably wonderful.
Early this morning I took my coffee out to examine the deck in it's resurrection glory. A huge and brave hawk swooped over the deck, made some sounds of either stress or approval and gallantly sat on a close by tree. I knew it was Jed telling me how pleased he was. It was a lovely morning.
Not only is the deck becoming once again a place of joy, but it shines brightly as a tribute to the love of my life for his remarkable vision.
And then we built the deck. We, is a bit of a stretch, but I did carry water and find tools. We had a view, and Jed wanted to live in it. We had boards and concrete and nails and every kind of metal building attachment that Home Depot could provide. All this we had for what seemed like years. Jed loved a good job. He just loved working on a project. Jed was never very concerned about finishing a good job. He'd always tell Reg, "You don't want to kill a good job!" They would laugh and drink a beer while studying the next phase of the project and I would cringe. I, naturally, really wanted this "good job" to get finished. Silly me.
Memories pick and choose. I pick the amazing joy I got from decorating the deck. I would hose it, and clean it, and move furniture and hang plants...oh, what relaxing fun. And, how wonderful that he finally finished the deck and started on the porch and bathroom. Me, I just walked around on the sturdy dream and felt happy.
Fireworks, friends, children, oh, the children...Oh how the deck became an extension of who we were. We were the ones with the amazing deck with the sky rocketing view. We were the ones who loved to share it with our friends and family. Graduation parties, wedding receptions, good ole beer fests, homemade ice cream on 4th of July...the deck gathered us all for what our hearts needed.
But then Jed fell. He fell so hard that he broke the spirit of the deck. Years went by and no one even walked on it's boards. It was left to the raccoons and squirrels. The spa grew a foot of crud, the boards warped and creaked. The tree branches threatened a final deck death.
But, deck death will not be a near future reality. It is being resurrected. The dead boards are gone. New boards assure longevity. And paint. Heavy duty paint, along with hundreds of plants and piles and piles of well placed dirt are singing the happy deck song.
After Jed died I decided to have a two year plan. Home, business, body. Get them fixed up. So, I'm fixing up the deck. It feels like a memorial to Jed and that is what I need. Of all the things we did together that were so filled with joy, the deck stands out among them all as quite remarkable. There's a lot I cannot do. I cannot bring him back or start over with him. But I can bring the deck back to life and even though it's not totally satisfying, it feels remarkably wonderful.
Early this morning I took my coffee out to examine the deck in it's resurrection glory. A huge and brave hawk swooped over the deck, made some sounds of either stress or approval and gallantly sat on a close by tree. I knew it was Jed telling me how pleased he was. It was a lovely morning.
Not only is the deck becoming once again a place of joy, but it shines brightly as a tribute to the love of my life for his remarkable vision.
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