At the End of the Day

My bones ache.

At the end of the day, I come home from the hangar remodel covered in dust and sweat.  There’s a little soapy water that dripped down my arms while I was scrubbing doors.  It has dried in long, wiggly streaks.

I shower.  I make dinner.

Martin comes home.  He’s covered in sweat and airplane smells.  I tell him he has the aroma of an oil can, and he smiles.

We love spending the days in the hangar together.

We each have our own tasks, and we slid right into them like it’s a perfect fit.  Between the two of us, I know we’ll get this project done.  We’ll have a place to live that is all our own.

Day to day, it doesn’t feel like it.  But I know we will.

After dinner is picked up, I sit down to write to all of you about our progress.

But I can’t.  I’m just too tired.  The screen and I have a staring contest for a few minutes.  Then I also remember that I left the camera at the hangar.

I miss being here with you.  I miss the hours I’d spend working on Gadanke’s growth or swapping emails.  I miss you.

And now today, Martin and I are taking all of the stuff above to the recycling center or the dump.  Please don’t be jealous.  I know you wish you were going to the dump this morning as the sun just begins to peek into the hangar.  But we can’t all be so glamorous.

I will sport my pink leather work gloves and think of you and how beautiful life really is… even if I’m at the dump.