While we install hardwood floors this week at our house, I am reminded how unbelievably lucky I am to have Jason with me in this life.
As I watch (because, let’s face it, I’m useless in this regard) him work steadily, I love this floor not just because it is a massive improvement to the ratty carpet we are replacing, but because I see each board as another line in a love letter to me…every row measured and cut a new stanza, every bead of sweat dropped, life poured into my own.
This gets me thinking of all the love notes left for me all over my home:
The screen door he has to reset every time the kids and I try to use it…
the sandbox built of cedar…
the spackled walls of a bathroom I was ballsie enough to think I could handle on my own (I couldn’t)….
the train table in O’s room,
the built-in closet in A’s….
the camper he drove to get and stocked with groceries for a trip he wasn’t taking…
the kitchen ceiling, counters, cabinets…..
His hands crafted this sense of home for me.
Every mismatched outfit the kids land in for the day
Every birthday cake, steak, pie, kabob, salad he makes just the way I like them
Every car tune-up, oil change, breakpad
Every day spent at a job less than ideal
Every Christmas present assembled Christmas Eve by the light of the tree
Every 50 pound box of books he moves for me…again, annnnd again
Every “airplane” ride he tirelessly lifts the kids in the air
Every tear I cry as he holds me in our bed
These hands shaped me into a wife, a mother, a friend.
These hands enclosed around mine as I brought forth two new lives.
These hands that find mine while snuggled on the couch for movie night.
These hands that absent mindedly run over my wedding ring, tracing the circle of our love.
These hands that scoop up sleeping limbs and dreams and places them safely in their beds at night.
His hands built this life for me…