If These Walls Could Talk

We’ve had our first dance in the living room.  Among the old vinyl kitchen chairs found in the basement and brought up to sit upon when taking a break.  The closet full of another man’s passions of music, trains and circus.   Broken blue tile chips every where.   While the twenty plus year old stereo blared out some country.   And only briefly because he told me to get back to work.
It was still nice.
Earlier in the day I was telling a friend about all of the (tiring) work there is to do and that we have already done.   He was concerned it was more tiring than fun.   Rest assured, it is VERY tiring, but extremely enjoyable.  It’s amazing how a little paint and a little muscle can change a place.   And the place is changing to include us.   Us changing it is making us part of it.
And I am pleasantly surprised out of the energy and excitement others are sharing with us, about our new place.  It makes me feel somewhat loved when others come in and see something they way I see it.  Or even better yet, see something they see of the place and share that vision with me.   I don’t know, it just kind of makes them more part of the place as well.
I’m happy about the work and love and friendship going in to these walls.   I already have others stories in my head and heart.   I walk in and see the “cop” with his dark blue uniform and shiny badge, being all big and powerful, creating this home and making it safe by his presence.   I hear the little lady and her husband with music floating all around and children loving them safely.    And now we’re adding the laughter of friends and energy of a different kind of excitement.
So much gone on there.   So much going on.   So much to happen.
Oh, and just a “by the way”….. I will be writing on the walls and/or floors before painting them and flooring them.   Decades and decades from now when someone else is seeing a completely different vision as they stand in those rooms and tear things down they will read my words.   And one of the first things I will write is to tell them to dance among the old chairs they put up there to sit upon and  take a break.   And the piles of books they are trying to get rid of about biking and world travels.   Dance, just briefly, before getting back to work.