Trade Winds

Underneath the sink. There's some pipes and a spare paper towel roll and the compost bin. It's a bit dark.

The trades came today. Like a whirlwind of pipes, wires and wood. They are the elders. Even those who are young. 

They came like the furies, ready to overtake those who have false oath, maybe those who would desecrate the soul of the house. Because the house has a soul. 

And, if we chose poorly, if we made decisions that ignore the bones and heartbeat of the house, if we impose too much au courant…

The mythological furies were tasked to “hear complaints brought by mortals against the insolence of the young to the aged, of children to parents, of hosts to guests, and of householders or city councils to suppliants – and to punish such crimes by hounding culprits relentlessly.”

Yikes. I’m thinking that we better not screw up.

So, I observed carefully. I studied as the structural engineer poured over the outlines, looking at the walls to be moved, seeing where the faults lie.

He was mostly bald and finished it off by a smart shave. His head was long. He had the strong features like my Slavic relatives and the confidence of looking at hundreds of homes. He pointed at invisible beams that framed the center hall. He pointed. Up. 

“This is what’s supporting the house.” 

I’m looking at the hallway anew. It’s a throwaway piece of architecture. Like important, but not like you knew its criticality. And now, I do. Or, at least, its potential.

I didn’t speak with the window guy, the floor guy, the heating and air guy, the electricity guy or the plumbing guy. I think that more guys walked through this morning. 

Me? I couldn’t stay. I had to go to work. We had a thing. But, today, something happened. Things were discussed. And I will know more. 

I’ll know more when the bids come in. They will be full of information. About capabilities. About options. About decisions. And I’m thinking now, and I’m remembering now, about what it is that I need to have done. And I’m listening. I’m ready to allow the house to push back. 

I find myself thinking about going to confession. As a prophylactic. To protect from the demons. Leaning on my historical Catholicism. Against the furies. 

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