Today it really begins. There have been many "beginnings" so far, but they have felt unofficial. Why? I chalk it up to a lack of vertical tangibility. In other words, a house needs walls to give it shape. I mean this literally, of coarse. But I also believe that the concept of house gains solidity in one's mind once there is tangible evidence of it's shape and boundaries. Our poor children, up to this point, have not quite grasped this concept. Turning a mud flat into a home--it's a bit of a stretch for a kid. And our aforementioned beginnings have offered little by way of evidence for little eyes:
Beginning #1: Land ownership. Yield: A paper. Beginning #2: First tree cut. Yield: A house-shaped hole. Beginning #3: Permits. Yield: More Paper. Beginning #4: Walls. Yield: The first suggestion of a house.
It's like when you turn 16 around here. You blow out the candles and nothing feels different. But then you get your G1 and slide behind the wheel of a car. All of a sudden 16 means something. Now, walls--walls mean something. Especially to a man who has been desperate to drive a nail into some wood. "I hope I can sleep tonight, " he said last night. And I'm not positive he did. It's blood, sweat and tears time. Time for a boy to build a house.
