Yesterday, Nate and I were priming the one side of the house that we have scraped, and I must admit I was starting to feel a little stressed.
It's not that painting is bad work, I rather enjoy painting. It's when I look up and see what we have done and think about how much is left. I know that this will be a job we will probably be forever doing, because if you only paint one side a year there will always be painting to do.
I heard Nate talking to someone, and then he came over with a smile on his face. Our neighbor is moving, and he had approached Nate to say good-bye.
"He said that he painted his house with his wife 50 years ago and they had a ball," Nate said.
"Was he joking?" I answered, assuming that this man was remembering the annoyance of painting a house.
"No, he was serious. He said we're really lucky to be able to do this together."
What a thought. When this man looks back on his life and remembers painting his house with his wife, no matter what he felt at the time, it's a cherished memory. It's these moments that someday I will look back on with fondness, and I appreciate having someone remind me that I should enjoy even these little times that I get to spend with Nate.