May 24, 2022

the construction project

Why not hire a professional? would be the logical question, but then I’d miss the quizzical
look I got from the hardware store clerk when I made theatrical gestures with my hands
to mimic a mailbox post being installed, and the drive-through lane of the lumberyard
where I opened the window to drifts of cedar and pine, and the surprisingly intimate
feeling of a drill in my hands at the golden hour of late afternoon, and how the lawn
where I worked became a cheering section of dandelions, and the way I started talking
to the screws, as if I were their guidance counselor. I’m not done yet, of course. This is
the price of chipping away at a language I will never be fluent in. But I’m not in it for
the expertise. I want, instead, the improvisation of the unskilled, my fingertips on the
craggy edge of discovery, my body turned toward an act of making, however imperfect.