Dreams of Sawdust and Smiles
It’s been thirty-three years since you lived
in the country home built in your retirement.
Moving to the country had been your dream for years,
but the distance from family became too much.
Five years later, you were gone from our lives,
so you wouldn’t know this. Jason bought the house
a few years ago as one of his projects as a contractor.
It had gone into foreclosure. Empty
for many years, it was left open to the elements.
Much of the interior was weather damaged,
so he gutted and refinished it. He then sold it,
so, sadly, it left our family, once again. Even so,
he did a great job, and it belongs to a happy family.
I can still see it in my mind, one wall
of the basement exposed in the hillside
with its wide window in the block wall.
I like to think I could look into it at any time,
see you working in your wood shop, running a board
across the planer or trimming a piece on the band saw,
turning the board to make the precise shape you need.
I can still see the dust flying from your router,
feel the vibration of that hum through the glass
as I press my face closer, see your smile of satisfaction
at the results. And I smile.
This poem is my response to the prompt for Day 29 at napowrimo.net, which is to imagine a window looking into a place or onto a particular scene. I helped my father build a few of the structures, including a barn, on the property my parents purchased in retirement.
Jason (holding the hammer), many, many years before restoring the property
~ Day 29 ~
rivrvlogr 
A great look back. The prompts this year weren’t bad at all. Nicely done.
Pat
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Thanks, Pat. I just found an old snapshot of Jason (my cousin’s son, who restored the house) as a child, helping with the barn, and I added it to the post. I think it makes it that much more special.
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🙂That it does🙂, he was a little tike then. It’s great when you can draw a straight line to connect the stories in your history.
Pat
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Nice work, Ken.
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Thanks, Ron. It’s something I haven’t thought about for a while, so I was thankful for the prompt.
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Such a warm memory Ken. It fit the prompt perfectly and told a touching story of the past. Beautifully done.
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Thank you. It made me happy to think about it.
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Touching – we can’t keep all the places that helped form us except in memories. And writings about the places& memories.
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And writing can provide a new way of seeing them. Thank you.
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Awww what a precious photo as part of a precious memory. Isn’t that something, your young son holding a hammer here and later earning his way as a contractor, which enabled him to come back to this place. I’d say that’s full circle.
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Thank you. He’s the son of my cousin, so yeah, there’s a direct link. In fact, he now lives in a log cabin he built for his new bride on the same road.
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You’re welcome. Sorry for mistaking your cousin’s son for your son. There is something to be said for staying put.
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Lovely tribute! The photo adds both a sense of history and timelessness to the poem.
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Thank you, Lynne.
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What a touching poem and lovely photo ☀️
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🙂 Thank you.
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Those connections are important. You have a way of inhabiting a place with your words. (K)
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Each in our own way. Thank you, Kerfe.
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