Eeeeks!!! Termites!@@**
The interminable move is moving very slowly. In other words, the transition from Meadow Lea to Algiers Point can barely be detected from day to day, given the creeping nature of current activity: one coat of paint...next coat of paint. Two boxes of closet contents...next closet. On the other hand, important things are happening.
Just as termites, in past years, invaded the foundation of my new home-away-from-home in New Orleans, today the daily efforts of painter, landscaper, carpenter, packer extraordinare (me), etc., are inexorably eating away the facade of my residency at 1327 Meadow Lea Drive. Accomplishments don't amount to much when tallied at day's end, but cumulative results are screaming at me (usually as I lay my head on the pillow, vainly seeking respite and slumber): days of familiar, pine-tree studded evenings; of doggie walks with a dear neighbor couple; of the sensation of privacy while surrounded by glass walls and shrubbery -- all these days are numbered. The termites indeed will prevail. One day I'll pack up, turn the key for the last time. It will be left to a new owner to remake this structure into a home. Soon, maybe in a week, enough of my handprint on this house will be erased so that it, too, will suffer a weakening of the family foundation, requiring "tuck-pointing" and new sills fashioned from the laughter of other children, the love and heartbreak of some other genealogy. Much has been gained and lost between these walls. May it foster for its new inhabitants some of the strength, humor, brilliant (yes, I think so) conversation, young love, older romance, hard-won understanding and appreciation that resulted from almost 15 years of living.
An aside: I hardly will recognize the place once every scratch is painted, wall outlets are covered, moulding and trim in place and finials aloft on the curtain rods. The house will be picture-perfect, finishing touches and all, and that's just not my style. I inherited from my Finnish father a tendency to wrap my arms and mind around a project, whirl around it with abundant energy, and dive into the next challenge or interest before the dust (finishing touches) has settled. Ah...the Finns who never finish. On the other hand, my father never hesitated to jump right into a project of my own undertaking (or those of his other children and grandchildren) because he was up to his shoulders in his own business. I aspire to the generosity and willing, adventurous spirit that dwells in the bent, greying old Finn: Pampaw Oivanki!
Just as termites, in past years, invaded the foundation of my new home-away-from-home in New Orleans, today the daily efforts of painter, landscaper, carpenter, packer extraordinare (me), etc., are inexorably eating away the facade of my residency at 1327 Meadow Lea Drive. Accomplishments don't amount to much when tallied at day's end, but cumulative results are screaming at me (usually as I lay my head on the pillow, vainly seeking respite and slumber): days of familiar, pine-tree studded evenings; of doggie walks with a dear neighbor couple; of the sensation of privacy while surrounded by glass walls and shrubbery -- all these days are numbered. The termites indeed will prevail. One day I'll pack up, turn the key for the last time. It will be left to a new owner to remake this structure into a home. Soon, maybe in a week, enough of my handprint on this house will be erased so that it, too, will suffer a weakening of the family foundation, requiring "tuck-pointing" and new sills fashioned from the laughter of other children, the love and heartbreak of some other genealogy. Much has been gained and lost between these walls. May it foster for its new inhabitants some of the strength, humor, brilliant (yes, I think so) conversation, young love, older romance, hard-won understanding and appreciation that resulted from almost 15 years of living.
An aside: I hardly will recognize the place once every scratch is painted, wall outlets are covered, moulding and trim in place and finials aloft on the curtain rods. The house will be picture-perfect, finishing touches and all, and that's just not my style. I inherited from my Finnish father a tendency to wrap my arms and mind around a project, whirl around it with abundant energy, and dive into the next challenge or interest before the dust (finishing touches) has settled. Ah...the Finns who never finish. On the other hand, my father never hesitated to jump right into a project of my own undertaking (or those of his other children and grandchildren) because he was up to his shoulders in his own business. I aspire to the generosity and willing, adventurous spirit that dwells in the bent, greying old Finn: Pampaw Oivanki!
posted by Pelican Stories at 5:33 PM
1 Comments:
Now it's time to think of all the new handprints that we are going to put on your new house. Figuratively, and, in Henry's case, probably literally! I suspect that house might hold some brilliant conversation, romance, strength, and humor too!
love, RK
Post a Comment
<< Home