Construction Site

I'm fortunate to be doing some construction work on my home right now. My contractor is wonderful. This post is about him. I know that usually, the contractor/homeowner relationship is often contentious. Schedules run way behind, budgets balloon, frustrations build. This is understandable, since people generally don't like their lives interrupted.

These are clearly good problems to have, if you're lucky enough to

A) have a home

B) have one you can afford to fix up.

It is certainly atypical to not only adore your builder, but to write about him. My family has known AM for at least 8 years. He's old school Italian, wild about his family, and treats the homes he builds with the care of a mother taking care of her babies. He's a highly skilled pilot. He speaks multiple languages. His family is wonderful, and I've had the privilege of becoming close to all of them recently. It's very sweet; in the wake of my divorce, AM has assumed a fatherly, protective attitude towards me. I'm very appreciative. It's unusual when anyone absorbs another person's situation with such a full heart.

What inspired me to write this post was the renewed thought I've been giving to my home. When one enters a brand spanking new chapter in their life, they often see their familiar surroundings in a whole new light. This is certainly going on in my head. I mean, my life is now completely different, so it's natural for me too see many things with a fresh pair of eyes. I have a revived appreciation for many aspects of my life, especially my home. While what is going on inside the home has shifted and taken new shape, the house itself is obviously the same. This structure has been a constant in my life. There is great comfort in that. It is a safe haven when I need emotional and mental solace. It is a space that's mine. In the entire huge world, this is my tiny corner of it, and it was built by this incredible person. When I cook feeling love, the food is better. I imagine that since AM builds his homes with such love, love remains in the walls. Good energy keeps the floor boards together. Strength of spirit supports the beams. Solidity covers the skeleton, the bones of the house are never bare and lonely. Only a special individual can create this.

Last week I had a thought: when I cry, my tears are caught by the floors he built. When I burst out laughing, my laughter reverberates off his walls. When I put my children to sleep and crawl in their beds, it's in the rooms he made for them. When I open or close my front door, I'm greeting or exiting phases of my life.  When I cook, it's in his kitchen. The kitchen is the heartbeat of any home. That is the space in which I create, nourish, feed. I water the seeds that were planted long before I lived there. I pray many great things will occur within these walls; love, grandchildren, parties, holidays, milestones. To build someone a home is to give them a massive keepsake box, in which to fill up with all kinds of memories. That is a very big deal. When your heart is clear, it's easier to have awareness and appreciation for even the most seemingly mundane things.

"If you build it, they will come"... 🗝🏠❤️