The Gift of Time

My memory is not as good as it used to be. I still probably remember more than the average person, and more in the specific areas I choose to remember, but I'm definitely forgetting more these days. Facebook reminded me of a memory from nine years ago during the first year we owned our house. I had actually completely forgotten our house came with a deck, a really ugly deck. 

 

Our house has a roof overhang running along the edge so the raised decking board made the entrance to the deck very low - I believe it was less than 8 ft from wood to wood. This was undesirable and we weren't going to keep it. Mentally, a bit part of my thinking was also I didn't want to keep anything left from the previous owners. We weren't going to keep it, so in the fall when the weather cooled down, we took it apart with our own two hands.

This was what it looked like once we'd gotten rid of all the above-ground parts. My husband and our neighbor eventually pulled each one of those concrete posts up one by one with a farm jack we'd borrowed. 

For a while, sitting on our patio meant this was our view. I used to close my eyes and imagine what I wanted our backyard to look like. I wanted to see a fence that wasn't oxidized. I wanted to see a cozy place to get together. I wanted to see love flourishing. I wanted to see a freeze-frame of life being lived to the fullest. And for a long time, when I opened my eyes, all I saw was an aged fence and some stretch of grass. 

A lot of love has been put into this house. I've blogged about it over the years. You can revisit them at this link if you wish. For the longest time, we put off the outside because it was "less important" than the inside. This was mostly true for a long time until our kids came along. They needed a space to play, a place to be free to run around, and a place to explore. After we had a patio paved in about 1/4 of our yard space, everything else snowballed - the playhouse, the plants, the toys, etc.

I snapped this picture of my children playing outside together one afternoon. Our backyard is not magazine worthy. It's not designed by Joanna Gaines or Shea McGee. And it almost always looks a bit disheveled and awry. But this picture completes my vision from years ago I used to merely imagine with my eyes closed. I love getting to watch my children play together and keep each other company. I love that I can grow herbs, vegetables, and flowers right on my patio. It's so satisfying to be able to walk outside with a pair of kitchen scissors and a bowl and return shortly with freshly cut green onions, basil, or peppers.

As I get older, I'm reminded of the passing time by my greying hair, added wrinkles, and joint aches. It's easy to forget how time can change things for the better, especially when it comes to inanimate or intangible things such as feelings and spaces. Over time, this backyard will continue to evolve, and one day, the playhouse will be gone. One day, the sandbox will be a relic of the past. One day, there will be four adults from our family sitting on this patio enjoying this space together.

That's the hope.