Glimpse

Written last Saturday evening..

There are moments, such as this one, when it’s difficult to continue. When my back is aching and my body’s spent, no amount of wine or beer can help. And I know full well that’s not what can make me feel much better, but at least it aids in the process, sometimes.

“You’re the dreamer, I know you are” he exclaims, “but I know the work that goes into this!” sweat beading off his brow. ‘Hard work’ isn’t just a word taken lightly by us. It’s something we do every day. When we get home from our day job and have more work ahead. When the weekends mean an extra few hours to push more towards our goals. Nobody has to understand it, and that’s okay.

What makes it worth while are the glimpses. I see, if only for a few seconds, what it all can become. Today, on a Saturday afternoon, it was the broken brick steps leading up to the front door. I imaged a beautiful walkway. That’s where we’re working now while we’re waiting to get the window in the bathroom. You can choose whatever project you’d like because there’s countless ones everywhere you look. That’s my philosophy now -it all needs done so do what you’re feeling that day.

Just yesterday, I spent all morning and into the afternoon trimming the yew out front. And this yew isn’t a shrub. It’s become a tree that’s grown wild for almost 200 years. And from that, a vision of what the front of the house could be is revealed, if only for a second. That snap-shot of what the home can and will become, keeps us moving forward.

Gavin and I began today, working on that area – taking more out of the yew and hauling away pines that were previously cut and laying in the yard. Wheelbarrow after wheelbarrow down to the burn pile.

Before this, we woke up at our usually time we do during the week. He went grocery shopping while I cleaned the house. Six hours. This home isn’t a regular house to clean and I’m trying so hard to make it that way, but it’s difficult to explain if you’re not living in it. Continuous projects layer the furniture and tables with hundred-year-old dust and dirt.

I don’t say all of this to complain. That’s the last thing I want to do. All I wish to do is write it down so I can look back later and see how far we’ve come. Because these tough moments, when all I want to do is stay inside by the fire but choose to go out again into the cold and work, will be forgotten. What will remain are the fruits of our labor. People will see our vision brought to life. Only we will know what it took to get there.