Two Walls

This project in central Maine involves two separate walls. Dave, who’s driving up from New Hampshire to help me, has his wall, and I have mine. As Dave’s wall grew and mine faced a few setbacks, it became clear he’d be finished well before me. Dave is a great waller, but I was hesitant about him coming over to work on my wall.

I started the prep work before the first frost. I’ve had months to think about the composition of antique granite slabs and round, weathered fieldstone. I’ve been itching to start building. And, if I’m honest, itching to make it feel like mine. I wanted to put part of myself into that wall. What would that be like with someone else working on it?

I pushed those feelings aside as we worked together for the first time on my wall. Unsurprisingly, Dave did beautiful work. My grasping for control eased up a little.

The next day, just before lunch, I picked up a rock and felt that unpleasantly familiar pop in my lower back. I knew right away what it meant. My day was done. Probably the rest of the week, too.

What happens to the wall now?

That night Dave sent photos of the section he’d taken over. It wasn’t exactly how I’d been picturing it, it was even better.

That’s all it took to break the spell.

My wall became ours.