I looked at the lines around our property. Each connected to a life, a dream, a needed improvement or repair.
When the repurposed materials are stacked, piled, and stored it’s for a new beginning.
It’s for future upkeeps and protective boundaries where structures and space break down.
Iron Man installs a line of forest timber, hammers nails, digs holes, and pounds the earth.
I try to help.
The labor is intense. There’s an exchange of cross words.
Our brows are warm beneath beaded sweat.
When the labor is finished, he glimpses at the toil of his accomplishment, wishes he had done better…and tries to figure out how.
These aren’t just lines around our property. They are goals of metal and wood and plastic and dreams of a safe and happy haven.
The lines of the space have changed.
And so have we.
It is not for nothing.