We intentionally wrestle every sunset to the ground.
It’s been a rough and tumble couple of years— I’m numb and worn at every edge. I have dried paint etched on my arms and knees. I can count two bruises, three broken fingernails, and one very sore thumb.
Hard work can be oddly fun and challenging at the same time.
The days and weeks are relentlessly knotted— marked only by garbage pickup days. Note: Maui trash collection happens twice a week, a bonus trash day from the norm in Seattle.
All our debris from the previous 72 hours is noisily rolled to the street, and then I await the garbage truck angels. The rumbling sound of the truck carries the excitement of a fresh start and an empty trash receptacle to fill once again to the brim. Trash pickup day brings an impromptu coffee mug toast to the air and a satisfied smirk.
We have an excessive amount of trash from our house build. The packing from supplies and materials is neatly (sometimes) collapsed— often smooshed relentlessly by a sledgehammer— deep into the garbage can. Then off it goes to landfill heaven, and I can breathe a bit easier until a quick check of the overwhelming task list.
Our To-Do’s are not Been-Done’s until the pen has scratched a thick line through each project. This list continues to the back of the wrinkled page held to the counter by a cold cup of coffee. More projects are penciled-in than scratched-through, and the days dim into the beautiful orange sunset—the end of another workday and another lost day of beach-time.
But it’s good.
We worked together to accomplish a mutual goal each day. We made friends along the way. We can celebrate the small successes through this Messy but Perfect Move to Maui as each sunset displays over the water.
