We love our house and I’m grateful for it. Over many years we’ve tended to renovations of all sorts – some of which I’ve shared here.
As we’ve approached the finish line with projects (she said hopefully) we’ve finally meandered toward the front door. Literally – to the entry way and stairs. The same tired carpeting covered the steps for ten years and to make matters worse – and dangerous – we tinkered with removing the existing carpet runner to expose the bare wood, wondering if that was a better bet than recarpeting. And I should add…when I say “we” I really mean hubster Paul. He was the one painstakingly removing nails and tacks – one tread at a time.
For a few months we had to adjust our footfalls on the stairs to account for the absence of carpeting on some steps, carpet still intact on others. It amazing what that did to throw of my gait. Soft step, harder step. Instead of sounding like a horse galloping down the stairs, I sounded like an intruder who can’t keep quiet. Clomping for a few steps and then silent for a few more.
But now? We’re back in business. A brand-spanking new stair runner – complete with a cushy pad underneath – which means I can sneak up on Paul all I want. He’ll never hear me coming…no clomping.
We’re happy to report that our refurbishing punch list has been reduced to painting. Painting in order to banish the oddest shade of beige; it looks like an indecisive cosmetic color. Unable to decide if it wanted to be pink or tan as it sits all over the foyer walls and in two adjacent rooms. I don’t want to gross you out, but it’s kind of a puke beige, if you really want to know. (Sorry. I should’ve warned you that I was going to get graphic.)
But the point of this ramble is about gratitude – beyond the obvious pleasure I’m taking in fresh carpeting. I’ll explain…I have three gratitude thoughts to share and they’re related to the lovely gentlemen who installed the new stair runner and the one I call the hubster.
Smile #1: The duo that did the job worked well together; a nice ebb and flow between them as they gathered their supplies and entered our home, taking care to place drop cloths on the floor ever so mannerly. I greeted them and offered a hot or cold beverage and told the guys to make themselves at home, pointing out the location of the bathroom. “Holler if you need us,” I said as Paul and I both wandered to our workspaces. He to his office on the first floor and me to the kitchen island.
I knew I’d need an alternative roost that day because I didn’t want to get in the way by traipsing up and down the stairs-in-progress if I stayed in my second-floor nook. Well…it was that plus the thought of being away from my own beverage of choice – a hot cup of tea – for untold hours. Too much to bear…so I migrated to the kitchen and set up shop. Still with me?
The gentlemen – Mike and Jamie – worked quietly but I still heard every single word, grimace, comment as they removed the old carpet. Feeling like an eavesdropper, I figured a little background music might squelch the silence and their periodic chatter. Just enough to tune them out. But as soon as I began playing a little Sirius XM “The Bridge” with fabulous 70’s folk and rock music…the soundtrack of my youth and Paul’s…the guys…especially the older of the two (Mike) began to sing along.
For a moment I wondered if listening to their running dialogue was better…but only for a moment. The glee Mike obviously felt, singing along to Fleetwood Mac, James Taylor, Elton John and the Eagles was infectious.
Taking a break, Mike passed through the kitchen to get to the bathroom and commented that he loved our choice of music as he greeted Paul.
“It’s my music, you know. You’re too young, you wouldn’t know what it means to me. It’s so good.”
Paul smiled and said, “Oh, it’s my music, too. Makes me happy.”
Now the two were bantering…sizing each other up.
Mike said, “No way, I’m a lot older than you, my friend.”
Paul grinned and said, “Bet me.”
As they compared birthdates, Mike was shocked to hear that Paul has three years on him and said, “You look good, my man, you look good.”
The grin on Paul’s face grew larger. I’m pretty sure a satellite could’ve picked it up. Shiny and bright. And I’ll come back to this in a minute. I promise.
Smile #2: For this you’ll need to take a look at a couple of photos – see below – of our refurbished stairs and our daughter, Delaney, taken when she was in high school a few years ago:
Mike’s counterpart, Jamie, was installing the carpet at the top of the stairs when he spotted the framed photo of our girl in a nearby bookcase. He leaned over the railing and said, “Hey – that’s so cool. This picture – the frame? It matches your carpet exactly. Did you do that on purpose – you know, doing that subtle pattern repeat thing?”
Now I was the one who was smiling. “Oh wow – no!” I said. “I hadn’t noticed that at all, but you’re right. Same design, pattern, colorway!”
The fact that the sweet carpet installer has an eye for design and then went on to chat with me about the changes we sorely need to make with the aforementioned pukey paint color was delightful. It gave him a minute to pause, drink a little water, straighten his back and admire his work and ask me if I liked how the stairs looked.
Of course, I was ready to give praise and said, “They look terrific! You and Mike do great work.”
When Mike and Jamie left, Paul and I moved around a couple of rugs…shopping in our house (which is our favorite home decorating trick). Before we buy, we like to experiment and see what we can shift around from room to room and we were successful – rotating a rug from the kitchen to the front door and vice-versa in order to compliment the new animal print on the stairs. Rawr!
Smile #3: Back to Paul’s satellite-detectable smile. Sitting down for a minute after admiring the stairs, Paul commented about his interaction Mike and tears welled in his eyes. I’ve been with this man for over forty years and I can’t always predict the source of his wistfulness but this time? I nailed it. Paul was having a gratitude moment.
“I am so grateful for our life here. Our house, my health, our good fortune, ya know?”
I nodded as he got choked up. I understood. He was thinking about Mike and many like him who – for reasons too varied to account for – continue to work hard in physically demanding jobs later in life. Coming from a long line of proud craftsmen and farmers, Paul’s family knew hard work and the challenges of an aching, creaky body.
“I feel lucky,” Paul said, “And I hope Mike and Jamie saw how much we appreciated their work.”
I knew Paul’s moment of melancholy was about more than our carpet guys…it was about his profound admiration for the strong men (and women) in his family and the people who are currently struggling in our world. Our lives are far from perfect and goodness knows Paul’s experienced plenty of his own challenges, but his gratitude heart is one of my dear husband’s most wonderful qualities. He’s a keeper and truly, I’m the lucky one.
-Vicki 💝
Hi – I’m Victoria, Vicki, Dr. Vicki. I hold a doctorate in Adult Education and I’m a Licensed Professional Counselor (LPC), and author of Surviving Sue | Eckhartz Press.
Check out this link to learn more about my book “Surviving Sue” – all about resilience and love.
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Victoria Ponders 
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