A House Becoming

Chalky walls, papered floors, a translucent curtain. Hours of work removing what was, hours more making what will be. During the plastering and painting, our unabashed, out-loud words repeat: It smells so good! And it does. The smell of building. The smell of becoming. The smell of fresh, clean, and new. Wood, plaster, paint.

Porcelain and brass light fixture parts are delivered in their cardboard boxes, some from here, some from there. I unbox them, hold their beauty, and hope that, with them, the sketch in my mind will soon hang from the ceiling. An idea, maybe, just maybe, for real.

In the bathroom, there’s change on the fly. The entire plan is thought through with every detail in place before the first hammer swings, but, but! pregnant moments come right in the middle, when things are well underway and construction dust is thick, and you will always, always be glad you allowed them time to deliver. Blessedly, creativity doesn’t always hold to the plan.

Two vintage chairs arrive, with hardwood legs, bentwood arms and loden green Naugahyde covering springy seats and padded backs. Seats of opportunity, I say, that may very well bump the idea of slipcovered Parson’s chairs from either end of the dining table. Other things, too, are arriving, from kitchen spatulas, to the electric kettle that’ll sit on a kitchenette shelf, to seagrass for the floor.

This is a house becoming. This is walking forward instead of looking back. This is here and now, a blessed moment. What, with our hearts, our time, and our care poured in, will this place become?

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