Today I repainted the deck. In itself this isn’t much to write home about. But we built this deck 10 years ago. With our hands and our sweat and some bloody scrapes.

My daughter was still in high school. This deck has hosted BBQs and dinners whose photos we occasionally stumble on and smile. Some of them were with my mom and my dad, before he passed. The boards on the landing still have nail scratches from our old German Shepherd who last fell asleep just inside.

I’ve built a new deck at every place we lived. Making them with my hands attaches me to the life they created and the memories they hold.

Replacing a few boards and giving this deck a fresh coat of paint to protect it is the least I can do. It’s a good one.