Temporary

We moved into this house in what happened to be the days leading up to Covid. Not long after, we built a fence around the yard so Sasso could run free without a leash. Well, almost all the way around the yard.

Eliza’s brother and father helped us design and build the panels with cedar and wire mesh. That’s an understatement; we never would have tackled it without them. In one heroic weekend we assembled the panels, dug countless holes, many of them twice after realizing our initial math was wrong, and installed the posts and panels everywhere except along one stretch bordering a neighbor’s property.

That neighbor planned to put up her own fence soon. It made sense to tie into hers later. In the meantime, we threw together a temporary fence out of chicken wire and metal stakes.

That temporary fence lasted the rest of Sasso’s life.

It was still standing when Vim showed up a few years later. He’s a little more curious about what’s happening on the other side of it, and we’re a little more concerned about keeping him safely contained. When Eliza suggested replacing the old janky thing with something more secure, I realized I’d stopped noticing the fence years ago.

Once my attention returned to it, I couldn’t believe how rough it looked. Bent stakes. Sagging wire. Random reinforcements added over the years.

I build fences for a living, only they’re made of stone. Walls meant to last generations.

One of the most important fences in my life was thrown together as an afterthought, meant to last a month or two.

Instead it held together an entire chapter of our lives.