To Build a Dream

5a.m.

The day winds up and I ready it with coffee. Steaming, black and in my favorite cup, I sip slowly at first and then gulp away the sleepiness still fogging up my head. I think ahead of things to be done today. Plan how my hours will be spent.

We will handle lumber today and make everything level and square...the sawdust spinning like snow from beneath a new saw blade. The nail gun will scare the birds off for awhile... the " pop, pop, pop " building walls in minutes, and a hammer nearby correcting crooked mistakes.

Metal goes on soon. Sheets of barn red that are taller than  Sasquatch and awkward to dance along the roofline. Drill in hand, we will soon have sides and a roof and I will shout with joy. This has not been a fun game for me. I am thankful, but I am weary. 

(Good thing I realize that weary will wear away, but thankfulness is forever.)

I dream ahead...far off...to drywall and smooth paint being stirred with long paddles and rolled on in color that licks the walls.

I dream of washing new windows I've never seen, opening doors not yet purchased, cooking in a kitchen I only imagine.

How comforting it will be to have a closet!  Line up clothes and shoes and linens in perfect rows, soak in a hot bath with a good magazine, drink coffee at a dining room table that is still just a log beside the garden. 

I imagine scented candles and a Christmas tree. Coffee table books, fluffy towels and music drifting through the hallway that can make you want to dance.

I see a door mat and tasteful curtains and a cookie jar on the counter full of Oreos. I see slumber parties with the grandkids, watching old movies in the arms of a comfy couch, sleeping with the windows open and seeing the stars.

I  look forward to watching the snow fall in thick, fast flakes while timid deer wander close by and entertain us with their beauty. Of counting wild birds that frequent our feeder, their feathers the colors of a hundred crayons, each unique and free and spirited.

8:00a.m.

I tie on old shoes, worn jeans, and a tee shirt that reminds me that bacon grease does stain. I gulp the last of my lukewarm coffee. Slap on a cap, grab my gloves... and go help to build our dream...