It amazes me that I can hold up a Pinterest photo of a space and, like a sketch artist bringing a criminal’s face to life, the workers get my vision and bring it to reality. I can’t thank them enough for their care and attunement to our needs in building our house.
Their talents and skills range from shutter building and cabinet making to hanging mirrors and installing railings. Is there anything they can’t do? When they step up to free my hands of garbage or take a heavy item from my arms, I feel like a queen. I wonder if they’re treated less kindly by other people who employ them and if their initial downcast gazes were related to that. I sure hope not because that would hurt my heart.
I’m grateful for each task’s completion as it adds another cherry to an already perfect sundae. I want to do something special for the five of them, but what? I’d love to invite them to dinner when the house is done and decorated. That way, I can properly thank them and be the all the host I can be.
I’m in awe that I get to live here and make a living too. Earlier this year, the balancing act of work, family, self, and friends felt as precarious as trying to balance on a beach ball while spinning a museum-worthy, gold-lined plate on my finger, all choking back the pepperiest sneeze ever. I did it, but it sure wasn’t easy.
I deleted the paragraph that was here; it was nothing more than brown noser seated in the front of the class with an air-bound arm wagging at the teacher like a dog’s tongue. Where in tarnation do I come up with this stuff, anyway?
With everyone around me trying to sleep, I must stop pounding on the keys. I’ll meet you here tomorrow.
Love, Jaclynn
Going On 40 