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Restoration
Caught up in the excitement of restoring this old
house and wanting to do the best job possible, we even removed the wood mantel
in the dining room to extend the new flooring under it. I hid my face in my
hands as the boys pushed, pulled, and pried the mantel with a crowbar - then all
at once the piece came away from the wall, and we staggered with it out into the
hallway. The only buried treasure we found lodged behind it was an old acorn,
left by some long-gone squirrel.
 How I wished I could go back in time to this very
spot 300 years ago, and see the room as it was then! I knew that whoever was here
then must have felt the same as we did now - full of the excitement and
expectation of finishing a room, creating a home. Pete and Bill told me that the beams in the dining room had originally come from a barn. This too filled
me with images of those long-ago Rikers, razing a barn somewhere to begin the
venture of building this homestead. Another missing piece to a puzzle, another
bit of history retrieved.
 As the old door saddles in the hall were being
ripped out, a lady's hairpin popped up, the kind that held braids and buns. I
picked it up…so old and rusty. Who was this long-ago lady; did she labor over
and love this house as I do? Did she spend the happiest days of her life here,
as I am? Will someone find something of mine someday and wonder about me?
The house is like a romance, no less exciting
than my wonderful romance with Michael. Always something new to discover,
wanting to be together, hating to leave. Returning to our house after being away
is just like when Michael holds me in his arms. It's where I feel safe. It's
where I want to be. It's home. That's what being in love is like. That's what
being in this old house is like.
Valentine's day arrived, no matter about the
sawdust. So I baked heart-shaped cakes and cupcakes, complete with pink icing
and red lettering (and wood shavings, I'm sure). I sent Pete and Bill back to
sugar loaf with a few. Michael and I enjoyed ours that evening while planning
the next job-plastering!
When the plasterers started hammering the lath to
the ceiling, the mice in the attic got all upset. They decided to move
downstairs with us. I briefly considered moving back to Brooklyn with my mother.
And Jake the cat had his own problems, but it was every beast for himself….
Jake didn't like all the new smells the house had
taken on, like mortar, plaster, and that icky red glue. He felt threatened. He
peed in Michael's shoes, in the bedroom closet, on my new winter coat. The
vacuum cleaner was not spared either. But then the strange odors made him gag,
and he started vomiting. Worried he might die, I quickly forgave him all his
sins, clutched him in my arms, and said six Hail Marys. I reassured him, and
myself, that things would soon get back to "normal."
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to Happily Ever After
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