Last week you saw some of the repairs that we did this fall on the barn’s foundation. Today, I’m sharing some other work that we ended up doing on the siding.
It took four cousins, two very tall ladders, a pile of lumber, hundreds of nails (and we still ran out), and a few other assorted other tools and supplies.
We replaced missing boards, renailed loose boards and closed a trap door that had swung open a couple of years ago. It might seem odd that Matt and I left the door open for a couple of years. However, it was at the peak of the gable, and the climb was a bit daunting. One of my cousins brought a climbing harness and ropes, so he went up.
Working together felt so good. Not just because of how generous and kind and caring our family is. And not because it was a chance to balance Mama-me with DIY-me. What was best about the few hours we worked together that morning was how strongly I felt my Dad.
All of my cousins worked with my Dad at various points. We know how to do so many things because he taught us. We also know how to work together because we all learned from the same person.
There was such a great rhythm between all of us as we talked things through, divided up the tasks and did the work. We trusted each other to make the right cuts, choose the right materials and hold the ladder steady no matter what–even when it was fully extended and nearly vertical.
“You happy?” was always my Dad’s line when he and I were working together. That meant, “Is your end good? Can I nail/screw/glue/attach mine now?”
A short while into the work, my cousin at the top of the ladder called to the guy at the bottom, “You happy?”
Hearing that, I was definitely happy.
What a lovely thing, to encounter this living legacy of your dad when you weren’t maybe expecting it.
I was not expecting it. But it was tremendously comforting. I feel very fortunate that I have moments like this fairly regularly. Maybe I’m looking for them, but they make me feel better when I find them, so I’ll continue to be open.
Those moments happen without us planning for them. They come quite by surprise sometimes too. Feeling that way about my parents too these days.
It’s about being open to them and aware of them when they happen. I hope that your memories bring you comfort as well, Carolyn.